


Two Birds with One Stone

by stuntinf8



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Knives, M/M, Physical Abuse, Raven Andrew Minyard, Raven Neil Josten, Riko Moriyama is an Asshole, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:07:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuntinf8/pseuds/stuntinf8
Summary: On the night that Nathaniel first met Andrew Minyard, he had not been coherent.(OR Neil and Andrew are Ravens and Riko is a jerk)
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 117
Kudos: 340





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will probably be added as story progresses, so make sure to read them!! Figured I'd give the Raven Neil trope a shot, soooo we'll see how this goes.

Nathaniel Wesninski would almost find his life comical if it weren’t for the painful gravity of the situation; his sense of humor was often lost on many anyways, if he even had a sense of humor to begin with.

Being inducted as a Raven underneath Riko’s idolized hierarchy was the punchline to a bad joke, and he wasn’t laughing when his father shook hands with Tetsuji Moriyama after realizing that Nathaniel wouldn’t pursue the industry of murder.

“ _You’ll represent this family one way or another, junior_.”

Nathaniel’s mother had tried to stop it, knew what becoming a Raven would mean for Nathaniel’s freedom. His father murdered his mom the night that she planned on taking Nathaniel and running.

Nathaniel had witnessed it; it was the worst night of his life.

From there on, it was a blur. Time at the Nest was an indescribable construct of exhaustion, and everywhere Nathaniel turned, it seemed like some new line of torture was waiting for him: there was his father with a cleaver, Lola with a dashboard lighter, Coach Moriyama with a cane, Riko with his handcuffs and a set of a knives.

It was endless, and every once in a while, he allowed himself the question of ‘ _what kind of fate waits for a life like this?’_

It would most likely be morbid. It would probably be soon.

He was a survivor. His mom had told him that enough times for him to actually believe it, but the future was such a gruesome concept that Nathaniel blocked out the idea completely.

Riko Moriyama was his current dilemma and probably would be for a very long time; that understanding didn’t make adapting to Riko’s malicious intentions any easier though. Nathaniel dealt with the striker’s jabs and cruel remarks in the best way that he knew how: ignoring Riko until he grew so fed up with him that he verbally lashed out, guaranteeing a night of pain for both him and his partner Jean.

Nathaniel’s attitude, amongst the many other problems he faced, was uncontrollable, and sometimes, he almost felt bad that someone as quiet and passive as Jean would be paired up with someone like himself. He’d much rather have been partnered with Kevin Day; at least then he could get some joy out of the ridiculous pair system that Riko created.

Nathaniel despised the Nest, but it was as inescapable as his last name that adhered him to the Moriyamas.

***

On the night that Nathaniel first met Andrew Minyard, he had not been coherent.

There wasn’t much that he could recall from it either; Riko’s bout of anger had erupted the day before in a fit of spite and superiority. The striker had taken a knife to Nathaniel’s already-marred skin despite Coach Moriyama’s warnings to ease up, and Nathaniel had passed out from sheer blood loss: this was not a first for him. It was a first, however, for Tetsuji to order the Raven’s nurse to put Nathaniel on a mixture of morphine and something else that had numbed his body entirely. From there, he’d been sent with Riko, Kevin, and Jean to Macon High School where Minyard presumably played goalkeeper.

Their job was to recruit Andrew, but that was the only information that Nathaniel could retain before his vision grew blurry around the edges and his skewed concept of time left him shaky, probably from the combination of drugs and Riko’s rage.

“Your cult member looks like he’s losing his grip on reality,” a monotone voice had said.

Nathaniel started, unsure of who was speaking and whether or not they were speaking to him. A hand came down on his shoulder, gripping the bruised joint with purpose.

“He’s fine,” Riko said. Nathaniel knew it was Riko just from the way that the words melted into each other like they were trying to lull him to sleep. “You’re fine, right Nathaniel?”

Nathaniel, head high up in the clouds, replied with a nod that might have been more of a shrug. Riko let it slide, though.

He caught flashes of the scene in front of him, saw pale blonde hair and green eyes that were mirthlessly empty yet somehow piercing. He saw Riko’s leering smile, edged with his usual threats. Kevin and Jean stood further away, and Nathaniel couldn’t distinguish who was who. Eventually, he’d completely blacked out and couldn’t dredge up enough energy to keep his eyes open.

From what Nathaniel could remember, it had not been a fun night; not that he even understood the concept of fun anyways.

As far as Nathaniel knew, Minyard had outright rejected the Raven’s offer. It wasn’t until Andrew had shown up at the Nest two weeks later geared up in black that Nathaniel remembered who exactly Minyard had rejected.

Riko never gave up without a fight, and Nathaniel could only imagine what kind of dirt the sociopath had dug up on Minyard to get the apathetic keeper to sign with their team.

Rumors spread fast around the Nest, and even though Nathaniel didn’t speak to anyone besides Jean, he still caught the wild accusations thrown around about the Raven’s new goalkeeper.

_Psycho. Insane. Doesn’t give a damn about exy. Talented. Heartless._

***

The second time that Nathaniel met Andrew Minyard, he had two succinct thoughts pop into his head within a matter of seconds of catching sight of the goalkeeper, none of which having to do with any of the rumors. The first thought was one of snap-judgement.

Nathaniel was used to being the shortest Raven playing for Edgar Allen, the dramatic difference between himself and the rest of the players on the team almost staggering. However, the man that strolled on to the court like he owned the place could be no taller than 5’0; Andrew strutted ahead of Riko Moriyama like he’d rather be anywhere else besides the Edgar Allen stadium, and Nathaniel couldn’t blame him for that clear disregard to the Raven Captain’s authority. Wanting to be as far from Riko as possible was a feeling that he’d become well acquainted with.

The following thought that anteceded Nathaniel’s notice of Andrew’s height was proven wrong almost immediately. At first glance of Minyard, Nathaniel was certain that the short goalkeeper would be eaten alive by the Ravens. It was no secret that the team was brutal, Riko setting the precedent, and Andrew looked like fresh meat for the taking.

Seconds after Nathaniel made this silent dissertation of Minyard’s chances at survival, Riko made a grab for Andrew’s shoulder; Nathaniel caught the sneer on the striker’s face from all the way across the court.

Before Riko’s fingers were even a breadth away from Andrew’s jersey though, the latter turned around with a knife that appeared, from Nathaniel’s point of view, out of thin air.

Nathaniel felt his feet move backwards without even being conscious of the step, his back hitting the plexiglass wall of the court. Despite being far away from the glint of steel, he was all too familiar with Andrew’s weapon of choice and couldn’t help the fight or flight short-circuiting of his brain.

Riko looked from Minyard’s face, gaze slowly travelling down to the knife that the goalkeeper held out in front of him with a blank expression shuttering his features. Nathaniel couldn’t hear what taunting words came out of Riko’s mouth, but he watched with a mixture of surprise and fascination as Minyard grabbed Riko by the collar of his shirt and slammed the striker to his knees, knife still directed right at Riko’s arteries.

Coach Moriyama was nowhere to be seen, and the rest of the players were scattered around the court and standing in shocked silence.

Nathaniel noticed Kevin Day out of the corner of his eye, who paced near the stands while shaking his head and mumbling something, probably admonishing Minyard’s rebellion but too much of a coward to do anything about it.

 _Typical_.

As for Riko, the striker sat still in the face of Minyard’s knife, making no attempt to take the blade away. Andrew leaned closer towards the man whom he’d just thrown to the ground like nothing and bit out words that Nathaniel couldn’t quite make out. Whatever he said made Riko go rigid, and Nathaniel knew that posturing well; it was how Riko would shift before he was about to strike.

Nathaniel held his breath, waiting for the inevitable blow that would deem Minyard as prey for the rest of the Ravens.

He waited a second. Then another. Still anticipating, Nathaniel studied Riko closer, noted the tilt of Minyard’s head as if daring the former to make a move. It was then that Nathaniel was struck with a realization, eyes widening slightly.

 _Minyard was goading Riko_.

He _wanted_ him to attack. And it was the words that the goalkeeper all but shouted to the entire court that confirmed this realization.

“Give me a reason,” the goalkeeper widened his stance, stretching his arms out as if he were inviting in a brawl. However, Minyard was met with no resistance; Riko sat stalk-still.

Anger flitted across the vehement Moriyama’s face before dissipating into a collected calm. The twitch of his eyebrow gave him away though, and Nathaniel wasn’t fooled. Someone was going to pay for this rebellious streak. What Nathaniel didn’t understand was why Minyard wasn’t the one paying.

Any defiance against Riko, no matter how fleeting, was always stopped swiftly, usually by way of Riko’s preferred sadistic strategies. This had never really halted Nathaniel before, “his attitude problem seemingly incurable,” but today was the first time that he’d ever seen Riko back down, and to a rookie no less. Nathaniel was almost as irritated as he was astounded.

Riko stood up, looked down on Minyard as if he were scum, and turned to the rest of the court.

“Ravens, take fifteen,” he ordered. Reluctantly, the players began to drain from the court, heading into the locker room, and Minyard followed after them, not sparing Riko another glance.

Nathaniel tried to blend into the flock of players leaving, didn’t want to deal with Riko’s bullshit right now, but a hand snagged at the back of his jersey before he could make it through the court doors.

“Hang back a moment, Nathaniel.”

It wasn’t like he had a choice. Any sort of confrontation with Riko right now would only end up with Nathaniel handcuffed to his bed later and Jean holding him down.

He bit back a retort and waited with Riko’s hand still twisted in his jersey as Kevin, the last one left on the court, walked out with a cool glance flicked in Nathaniel’s direction. Riko tracked Kevin’s movements with eyes half-lidded and contemplating but didn’t say anything until his brother shut the door behind him.

“I won’t be dealing with Minyard’s problematic tendencies this season,” Riko ticked, “I don’t have the patience, and I won’t have him standing in the way of my perfect court.”

Nathaniel couldn’t help the scoff that escaped him. “Yeah, you really put him in his place back there.”

Riko’s gaze screamed violence at that, and Nathaniel had half a brain to take a measurable step back. The hand that gripped his jersey tightened for a moment before letting go completely.

“You’ll be looking after Minyard.”

Nathaniel’s mind blanked.

“I’m paired with Jean,” he stated, not as a question, because it wasn’t. Nathaniel wasn’t going to deal with another knife-wielding psychopath.

“Yes, you are paired with Jean. Good observation, Nathaniel,” Riko patronized, and Nathaniel grit his teeth together to stop himself from spitting at the bastard. “I’ll be leaving Minyard in your—” Riko’s gaze slid down to Nathaniel’s scarred hands, battered by exy and the striker himself, “—capable hands, as well.”

Riko had the audacity to smirk at that, and Nathaniel felt his temper rise.

“No,” he refused. “I’m not dealing with that mess.”

“Oh,” Riko feigned surprise, “but you are. And every time that he disrespects this team, you’ll be taking the fall for it.”

Nathaniel shook his head in disbelief. This wasn’t just Riko’s bullshit attempt at containing Andrew Minyard: it was a set up for Nathaniel to fail.

“You’re setting me up,” Nathaniel spat, “you can’t hold me accountable for Minyard’s recklessness.”

“Actually I can,” Riko’s mouth spread into a feral grin, “and I am. Fail to comply, and the Master will hear of it. I know how close he is with your father.”

All replies to that fell short. Nathaniel’s throat grew dry at the mention of Nathan, at the possibility of his father coming here to see him. Defeat tasted awful, but Riko had no qualms over shoving it down his throat whenever he got the chance.

Riko continued. “In fact, you might want to go check up on Minyard right now, give him a little pep talk about team spirit.”

“Right,” Nathaniel seethed, “cause you’re such an expert in that department. Are you forgetting that you have a hierarchy tattooed to the cheeks of your players, or does the number one just stand for most incompetent?”

Riko merely looked down at him calmly. “Stow the attitude, Nathaniel. For Jean’s sake.”

Nathaniel could barely even see the ruthless man in front of him, he was so angry. Rage curled up in his veins and ate away at him, leaving him breathless. Before he could do something that he most definitely wouldn’t regret to Riko, he turned around and slammed the court door behind him, shutting out the laughing striker. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for knives, mentions of Nathaniel's past

Calming down wasn’t exactly a strong suit of Nathaniel’s, and Riko’s antagonism didn’t make it any easier for him to take a breath and get himself under control.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t time for breathing, nor was there time for restraint; Minyard was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode in Nathaniel’s face, and he hadn’t survived this long just to have his life depend on a psychotic midget.

He strode through the darkened lobby beneath the stadium, searching for signs of the blonde’s presence, before Jean emerged seemingly out of nowhere; the backliner’s expression was grim.

“Move,” Nathaniel deadpanned. He didn’t have time for Jean’s pity.

Jean crossed his arms, looming over Nathaniel.

“You cannot leave me out of this.”

“Watch me.”

Nathaniel tried maneuvering himself around the backliner, only to have the latter move with him, refusing to get out of the way with a glare that Nathaniel knew came from a place of fear, not anger.

“That’s not how this works,” Jean replied coldly, “you do not get a choice in what secrets with Riko you share and which ones you keep to yourself. We are partners.”

Nathaniel gritted his teeth, looked away. Admitting what Riko put him up to wasn’t easy; it wasn’t just sharing Riko’s latest manipulations: it was revealing defeat on Nathaniel’s part.

The words came out choppily, but he forced himself to spit it out nonetheless.

“He’s putting me in charge of Minyard.”

Jean paled. Nathaniel didn’t have to elaborate any further than that for Jean to understand just how messy this situation was going to get. This season was going to be hell for the both of them.

The backliner blinked. “Minyard is a basket case.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Nathaniel growled, “Riko wants to see me fail. This is just another scheme to him.”

Because it was just another scheme. Riko’s tormenting never ceased, only found new ways to branch out and further break down Nathaniel’s will. Jean shook his head and stood in silence for a moment before a look of understanding crossed his features.

“Or he’s testing you.”

Nathaniel stared. “What?”

The backliner narrowed his eyes in thought, searching for an answer that Nathaniel was incapable of comprehending.

“You’re almost eighteen,” he said begrudgingly, “Riko will mark you for court soon.”

Nathaniel’s brain came to a screeching halt at those promised words.

It wasn’t like this was new information; Riko had told Nathaniel of his plans before even a week of him playing with the Ravens passed by. Nathaniel had been trying to escape the suffocating thoughts of what would happen to him once he was finally tattooed as number four, entitled as another one of Riko’s possessions for the whole world to see. His birthday was a dark cloud looming ahead, and every second closer to turning eighteen felt like the hold on him was constricting tighter.

It took a moment for Nathaniel’s voice to work.

“What does that have to do with Minyard?”

Jean replied with solemnity, “Responsibility. He’s challenging you to pull your weight.”

Nathaniel swallowed. “And if I don’t?”

“You and I both know that Riko will make you court no matter what,” Jean said, “Riko wants your respect—”

“—By making me babysit Minyard?” Nathaniel scoffed.

“By having an excuse to call your father down for family visits.”

Jean had said it quietly, but that didn’t soften the blow any less, and Nathaniel wasn’t having it. He shoved away and pushed into the locker room. Jean was smart enough not to follow.

***

It was unpredictably easy to find Minyard. The goalkeeper sat isolated on one of the benches, leaning back against a locker with his eyes closed as if he were sleeping, the rest of the locker room already cleared out.

Something about that nonchalance made Nathaniel even angrier.

“Hey,” he advanced towards the lockers to stand over Minyard with his arms crossed, afraid of what they might do if he didn’t keep them close to his body, “some advice for your next spat with Riko: swallow your pride and listen to him.”

Minyard didn’t even open his eyes at that, didn’t bother to deign Nathaniel with a response.

Nathaniel’s anger flared. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit they let you get away with at your high school, but things are different around here.”

This time, Minyard had the audacity to yawn, replying in monotone.

“I don’t know you.”

Nathaniel clenched his jaw, breathing in then out.

“Your actions here,” Nathaniel gestured around them even though Minyard’s eyes were still shut, “they have consequences. You can’t just go pulling knives on people when you don’t like what they have to say.”

Minyard remained silent for a moment, no sign of hearing Nathaniel speak evident on his face, before finally opening one eye to evaluate who was chewing him out. He ran a cursory glance down Nathaniel’s body, not a single spark of interest catching in his stare; Nathaniel didn’t think he was going to get a response until Minyard huffed to himself.

“Hypocrite,” he said, voice void of any sort of emotion or inclination.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at that. “Come again?”

“I said,” Andrew sat up from the locker that he had been leaning against, folding his arms across his chest, “you are a hypocrite. Are all Ravens here hard of hearing or have I been mumbling?”

Nathaniel mentally shook himself, Minyard’s undivided attention unexpected. He swallowed.

“You just said it yourself,” Nathaniel bit out, indignant, “you don’t know me. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I might not know you, but I remember you,” Andrew tilted his head as if calculating, “you came to Macon two weeks ago, although I wouldn’t be surprised if _you_ don’t recall that little outing.”

Minyard stood up, mere inches away from Nathaniel’s face, and Nathaniel had to suppress the need to step back and away from the empty look in the man’s eyes.

“One might wonder why someone so apparently loyal, who ‘swallows their pride and listens,’ would be hopped up on enough pain killers to leave them barely functioning,” a small, cold smile grew on Andrew’s face before vanishing. “Hypocrite,” he repeated.

“You can’t blame me for Riko’s temper,” Nathaniel tried, but Minyard just shrugged in response.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Nathaniel clenched his fingers to form fists, that prominent need to lash out at something hitting him fully fledged. There was no possible way that he could reach an understanding with the goalkeeper, that much was clear. From what he’d heard before and seen today, Andrew Minyard was apathetic to everyone around him and insane enough to pull a knife on Riko Moriyama of all people. Any attempt at conveying to Minyard the drastic aspects of this situation, how Nathaniel’s life could be on the line, would be useless.

“Riko’s a dick,” Nathaniel said, “but you signed with the Ravens. What the hell did you expect was gonna happen when you walked in on that court?”

Andrew scoured Nathaniel with contempt, searching for something in his expression, before he sat back down and shut his eyes once again.

“I’m bored of this conversation. Goodbye.”

 _Unbelievable_.

“You don’t get it,” Nathaniel said, voice raising with frustration, “rebelling against Riko won’t hurt him. It just affects everyone else on the team instead.”

Andrew didn’t respond to that, Nathaniel’s words seemingly bouncing off of a brick wall and falling short.

Impossible situations weren’t new to Nathaniel; if anything, they were his specialty. This, however, this whole predicament left him with too many questions to count and keep track of.

What was Riko planning by setting Nathaniel up with something so feasible? Why would Minyard agree to sign with the Ravens if he wasn’t going to give Riko the time of day? What did Riko have on Minyard to get him here, and why would the striker even bother signing the goalkeeper if he knew what a problem he would pose for the team?

None of it made sense to Nathaniel, and worse, there was nowhere for him to get answers. Minyard certainly wouldn’t talk. Asking Riko was out of the question.

He felt his temper rise, and there was nothing he could do to stop it; he’d inherited that quality from his father, after all.

Nathaniel reached out to snap in Minyard’s face, to do _something_ to get the apathetic goalkeeper’s attention, and found himself pinned to one of the lockers in the blink of an eye.

He didn’t notice the knife pressed against his abdomen until he felt the familiar bite of steel make contact with his jersey.

“That’s fine,” Andrew murmured lowly, “if you don’t know when to quit. I can teach you.”

The knife pressed harder against his gut, and Nathaniel flinched back against the locker unwillingly, unable to remove his stare from the blade. The scabs on his frontside were still healing from two weeks ago, courtesy of Riko, and Nathaniel dully wondered if they would bleed as heavily once Andrew cut him open.

The goalkeeper’s face was still blank, no sign of recognition that he had a knife pressed to his teammate; Nathaniel didn’t know whether or not he preferred this emptiness to Riko’s manic smile. He gulped, and Andrew tracked the movement of Nathaniel’s throat with his eyes.

“Get off of me,” Nathaniel gritted out.

Andrew’s eyebrows raised at that, and he tilted his head.

“You tried it first,” he replied stonily, “don’t like the taste of your own medicine?”

“I wasn’t—”

Andrew shifted the knife from his abdomen to his throat, and Nathaniel went silent.

It wasn’t just memories with Riko that were dredged up at the sight of a knife, let alone a knife at his throat. Nathaniel couldn’t forget the weight of his father’s cleaver on his skin no matter how hard he tried, stinging and sharp enough to slice with ease.

“Quiet so soon?” Andrew taunted.

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away from the man in front of him but still couldn’t stop the sound of his father’s voice ringing out into thin air. He distantly noted his hands shaking where they were fisted into his own jersey, but couldn’t feel much else besides Andrew’s blade.

“ _Minyard_ ,” Riko called out, and for a moment, Nathaniel thought that the sound of the striker’s voice had been in his head too. However, when he opened his eyes, Riko’s sneer was as broad as daylight and as present as ever. Nathaniel steeled himself, the knife in Minyard’s hand having disappeared to who-knows-where.

Riko clasped his hands behind his back, looking down on the both of them with distaste.

“I don’t take kindly to lesser-beings touching my things,” Riko smiled, “surely you understand.”

Nathaniel watched as Andrew eyed Riko, gaze slowly travelling up and down the striker’s body as if sizing him up. The goalkeeper was still standing mere inches away from Nathaniel, too close for any kind of comfort.

Without another word, Andrew stepped away and walked out of the locker room with too-casual posturing, completely unbothered by Riko’s barely-concealed warning. Nathaniel turned to the striker, waiting for the rebuttal.

“Next time,” Riko leered with a grin that went at odds with his words, “I’ll let him slit your throat.”

***

Nathaniel didn’t try to approach Minyard again after what had happened in the locker room, incapable of shrugging off the feeling of a knife weighted against his skin. He tried scratching at his neck, grasping to make the itch go away, but by nightfall, he gave up on any attempts to rid himself of the memories tugging at his brain.

Jean sat on the bed across from Nathaniel’s in their room, reading a book on strategies for exy. To Nathaniel’s dismay, Kevin was curled in the corner scouring through some pretentious history textbook that had too small of a print to actually be readable.

Kevin shared a room with Riko, but until it was absolutely necessary that he retire to bed, the striker spent most of his time hiding away from his adoptive brother in Nathaniel’s room.

Nathaniel understood why, but that didn’t make Kevin’s presence any more bearable. He respected Kevin’s game indefinitely, but the way that the striker would cower underneath Riko’s stare combatted with the endless criticisms he spat at Nathaniel made it difficult to stand being within speaking-distance of him.

“Riko thinks Minyard’s a waste of space,” Kevin said to no one in particular. Nathaniel caught the wary glance that Jean sent in his direction before the backliner cleared his throat.

“He is a disgrace to the sport. I do not understand why you insisted on signing such laziness.”

Kevin shut his textbook, the slap resounding through out the room, before leaning back against the wall with a furrow between his brows.

“He has potential. He’s just afraid of trying,” Kevin reasoned.

Nathaniel bit his lip to keep himself from retorting something nasty at that but couldn’t help the humorless scoff that he let out.

_Potential._

Andrew’s supposed “potential” was going to get Nathaniel killed. Or worse.

“Problem, Nathaniel?” Kevin asked, none-too-arrogantly.

Nathaniel didn’t miss the warning in Jean’s stare, just like he didn’t miss the haughty look spread across Kevin’s face. He stared up at the ceiling above him, focusing his attention on a string of dust and ignoring Kevin’s egotistical attitude.

Jean stepped in for him. “Nathaniel is just as displeased as I am at witnessing the mockery that Minyard makes of the court.”

Displeased was a funny word to describe how Nathaniel felt.

“That, and your pet psycho held a knife to my neck this morning,” Nathaniel couldn’t help but snap, unable to keep his temperament to himself. “What the fuck were you thinking, Day?”

“Nathaniel—” Jean tried, but Kevin cut him off.

“Once Andrew learns to want this game, he’ll be unstoppable. Don’t disregard his talent just because of petty arguments, Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel stood up, ready to lunge at Kevin with his bare hands, but Jean got in the way.

“I think it’s time you go back to your room,” Jean stared Kevin down, who narrowed his eyes and nodded once.

He left silently, but his exit still felt loud in Nathaniel’s ears. Jean sat back down, picking up his book once more but not removing his eyes from Nathaniel.

“Do not cave beneath the pressure. That is what Riko is hoping for.”

Nathaniel met Jean’s gaze with his own, feeling exhausted.

“I know.”

***

His dreams that night held promises of cleavers, empty eyes, and Kevin’s voice floating with the word ‘potential.’


	3. Chapter 3

Although Nathaniel wasn’t considered an official member of the Ravens, his name left omitted from the line-ups for games and scrimmages, he was still expected to practice with them throughout the sixteen-hour day period that the Nest thrived off of until he turned eighteen.

Riko, Kevin, and Jean aside, Nathaniel was undeniably the best, and most of his teammates loathed him for it. Each Raven wanted the fourth spot on Riko’s court, and each Raven knew how hard they’d have to work to take the ranking from Nathaniel.

What they didn’t know was how much Nathaniel actually wanted them to have the number four instead and finally rid him of Riko’s incessant tormenting.

Exy was Nathaniel’s passion, and he’d never give up the game, but he didn’t want to be trapped beneath Riko’s hierarchy. He’d already witnessed just how crushing the rankings were for Kevin and Jean, their every move stalked and pinpointed by Riko and the public.

Nathaniel wanted no part in that.

There was only one Raven who didn’t give a damn about Nathaniel or his talent, and that was Andrew.

The goalkeeper didn’t address Nathaniel after what went down in the locker room, and Nathaniel was content to stay as far from him as possible.

Andrew hadn’t pulled a knife on anyone else at practice, his first day aside, and Nathaniel supposed he should be grateful. Minyard was no less apathetic and emotionally devoid than before, but it seemed like he’d settled for simply ignoring the entire team and keeping to himself.

Nathaniel often caught Andrew staring out into space, no sign of being attentive at practice whatsoever and couldn’t wrap his head around the _why_

He didn’t understand how Andrew wouldn’t give a damn about exy when he was so obviously talented.

 _If anything_ , a small, selfishly hopeful part of Nathaniel’s brain supplied, _Andrew could take Nathaniel’s ranking if he’d only try._

That idea was foolish though.

Riko wanted that spot to be Nathaniel’s, and what Riko wanted, he got.

***

Although Minyard hadn’t recently gone to drastic measures involving threatening any Ravens with knives, the goalkeeper didn’t put an inch of effort into their practices. Nathaniel wouldn’t normally care, Jean being his only priority at the Nest, but Riko was starting to notice.

And if Riko was noticing Andrew’s bullshit attempts at guarding goal, then Nathaniel would take the fall for it.

“What does he think he’s doing?”

Jean stood near Nathaniel on the court, the two backliners covering Riko and Kevin, as they watched Andrew cradle his chin in his hands that were loosely holding on to his racquet. Minyard barely glanced at the goal behind him, lighting up red from the shot that Riko had almost lazily aimed.

Apparently, it didn’t take much work to score on a goalkeeper who didn’t care about the game.

“Nothing,” Nathaniel replied. “He’s doing nothing.”

Riko didn’t give Andrew the satisfaction of a scathing remark, instead opting for turning to Nathaniel.

The striker stalked over briskly, the eyes of the team all latching on to his every move as he approached the backliners. Nathaniel pretended to be busy with the strings of his racquet.

“Nathaniel,” Riko chirped, tone too happy to mean anything but danger, and got a glance in response.

Jean remained a silent reminder for Nathaniel to keep himself in check.

Riko tore Nathaniel’s racquet from his hands in an aggression that juxtaposed the unfurling smile on his face; he clawed a hand on to Nathaniel’s shoulder in what could be mistaken as a show of support.

The impossibly tight grip begged to differ.

“I assume you remember that I told you to put Minyard in his place.”

Nathaniel shrugged out of Riko’s grasp.

“He seems fine me,” he responded.

Dimly, Nathaniel noted Riko raising his racquet in the air before the accustomed pain arrived, the exy stick ramming into his stomach and him losing his breath. He unwillingly fell to his knees, tried to heave in oxygen but only managed to wheeze.

“Try taking another look,” Riko offered, and tilted Nathaniel’s head in Andrew’s direction with the racquet that he’d just used to assault.

Nathaniel barely registered the goalkeeper, air still a seemingly impossible facet and his abdomen burning, but caught Minyard’s bored stare for a moment.

Except the goalkeeper’s stare didn’t seem so bored anymore; Andrew’s gaze felt heavier, more intent.

Nathaniel blamed this imagery on the lack of oxygen.

Their eyes met only for a second before Nathaniel squeezed his shut and tried to recall how to breathe properly.

Riko strode away with a noise of disgust. 

***

Nathaniel had taken several more beatings in the duration of practice, and he couldn’t help but wince when lowering himself down on to one of the locker room benches.

Jean eyed him warily but was gracious enough to keep his mouth shut.

At this rate, Jean was the only Raven that Nathaniel wasn’t actively trying to avoid. He didn’t want to deal with Kevin’s incessant berating, didn’t want to face Riko’s spontaneous wraith, and he definitely didn’t feel like running into one of Minyard’s knives again.

He felt out of control, like a rollercoaster flailing off of the rails with no foresight of the collateral damage to come.

He felt helpless.

“You have to talk to Minyard,” Jean said.

Nathaniel smirked humorlessly.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” he replied, “talking’s not really his thing.”

“Make it his thing,” Jean stressed, impassive. “You are putting both of us at risk by allowing him to disrespect this team.”

Nathaniel turned with a heated glare, “I’m not his keeper.”

“What exactly is your plan, Nathaniel? You cannot ignore the problem until it goes away. Riko wants you to keep Minyard under control, and what Riko wants—”

“—he gets,” Nathaniel interrupted, “I know.”

That’s the way it’d always been, ever since Nathaniel had been unfortunate enough to meet the sadistic bastard.

Nathaniel shoved his gear into his locker and left Jean to stow in his frustration. There weren’t many solutions here, and the one’s that were apparent were also abhorrent.

***

The next time that Nathaniel was alone in a room with Minyard, it was an occasion of coincidence, though Nathaniel felt the goalkeeper’s presence like a police siren warring closer by the minute.

He wasn’t well-versed in the ticks of Andrew Minyard, but touching was clearly an offset for violence, so Nathaniel stayed as far from the latter as possible.

They were cleaning the court after another grueling practice, courtesy of Riko’s sixteen-hour day schedule and brutal drills.

Riko had ordered Nathaniel to pick up all of the stray exy balls scattered in disarray, and it was Minyard’s turn to clear cones.

Except, Andrew leaned against one of the goal-post’s poles, silently watching Nathaniel as a predator might watch its prey. Nathaniel could feel the empty hazel eyes searing into his skin.

He ignored it.

Bending over and collecting each ball was nearly winding, if only because he was almost certain that Riko had bruised his ribs. Nathaniel figured that was why Riko had assigned him with clean-up duty in the first place: another form of punishment.

Andrew didn’t move from his relaxed position, still staring holes into Nathaniel. It was supposed to be an intimidation tactic.

Nathaniel wasn’t intimidated; he was only angry.

Then again, when wasn’t he?

He picked up the last of the exy balls, dropping it into the now-full bucket with slight relief.

Minyard continued to watch, and Nathaniel finally risked a glance back to him.

As if Andrew took his returned stare as an invitation, he pushed himself from the pole and walked closer, completely ignoring the cones that he was supposed to clear.

“He hits you,” Andrew’s voice broke the tension, “every time I let in a goal.”

Andrew didn’t have to specify who he was talking about, and Nathaniel didn’t bother responding.

The goalkeeper stopped a few feet away from him.

“Why?”

The question surprised Nathaniel, Minyard’s curiosity at odds with his blank stare.

“Do you care?” Nathaniel found himself asking, sarcastic bite bleeding into his tone.

“No,” Andrew shrugged. “I don’t care about anything.”

Nathaniel let out a short and sharp huff of laughter and shook his head.

“Of course,” he replied.

Andrew didn’t leave at the dismissal though. He stood in front of Nathaniel, waiting with his arms crossed. Nathaniel made to pick up the bucket of exy balls, but Andrew moved faster than Nathaniel had ever seen him before and placed his foot on top of the bucket to keep it grounded.

Nathaniel slowly looked up from the bucket to Andrew’s void gaze.

“Can I help you with something?” he snarked, “or do you plan on threatening me with a knife again?”

Minyard’s jaw clenched, the only sign of any kind of emotion in his face.

Nathaniel was tired. He was tired, and he wanted to sleep, forget about today and yesterday and the day before that. He didn’t have enough collected calm to deal with Andrew’s apathetic antics.

“Why?” Andrew repeated, teeth gritted as if asking pained him.

“Why do you think?” Nathaniel bit out, “you’re reliable enough to make me a scape-goat.”

Andrew’s gaze flickered.

“Meaning?”

Nathaniel didn’t understand what Andrew was searching for.

“Meaning Riko counts on your apathy,” Nathaniel supplied slowly, “he knows you don’t give a shit, so he knows he’ll have a reason to hurt me by tying me to you.”

Andrew tilted his head. “You are in no means tied to me.”

“That’s not up to you,” Nathaniel jerked the bucket of balls beneath Andrew’s foot and stood up. Not anticipating how heavy the bucket would be, his grasp slipped, and he had one second to regret not being more careful before Andrew’s hands shot out.

The goalkeeper caught the bucket with reflexes that impressed even Nathaniel, and for a moment, the backliner just stared with wide eyes.

He tried to find his voice, but Andrew was now mere inches away which meant his knives were closer than ever.

Almost shockingly, Andrew broke the silence yet again.

“I do not plan on giving a damn for your sake. Just so we’re clear.”

The rude and careless words reminded Nathaniel of who he was dealing with.

Nathaniel had grown up incapable of trusting anyone but his mother, and she was dead now. He wouldn’t even allow himself to count on Jean, not when anyone could turn their backs on him at any moment. For Minyard to insinuate that Nathaniel needed reassurance that the goalkeeper wouldn’t be swayed made his blood curdle.

He heard himself scoff.

“I never asked you to give a damn,” Nathaniel glowered, “Riko might rely on you, but I won’t.”

With that, he tore the bucket from Andrew’s grip and jogged off of the court.

***

Andrew followed through with his promise.

Over the course of the next few practices, the goalkeeper barely even bothered to lift his racquet in the air, and Riko grew angrier with every meager attempt at guarding.

Nathaniel was running out of time, and he was growing desperate.

He couldn’t ask Andrew to try. Minyard’s response would surely be a bitter laugh in the face.

The only good thing to come out of Andrew’s lazy goalkeeping was the dissatisfaction that it brought to Kevin Day; Nathaniel tried his best to hide his smirks at practice when Kevin would grow extremely irritable at Andrew’s effortless attempts to defend the goal. Riko would usually beat the small smiles out of him a moment after, but a glimpse of Kevin’s pouting was enough.

Nathaniel needed an escape, some narrow road that would lead him out of this mess.

The Master had been out of town for the past two weeks, Riko mentioned, some sort of business trip.

Nathaniel knew of his return the moment that he had stepped on court during practice, felt it without even having to turning around to face the entrance. All of the Ravens had gone silent, Riko included.

Nathaniel, his back to the Master, searched Riko’s face.

Something was off.

Though quiet, a vicious and small grin had morphed Riko’s expression. Nathaniel was lost, no clue as to why the striker appeared so pleased, until he turned around.

It hit him so hard, he distantly mused, that it felt like getting run over by a bus.

Nathaniel turned around, and his past caught up to him in the blink of an eye.

The Master sneered at the entrance of the court, and next to him stood Nathaniel’s father.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for parental abuse

Andrew Minyard often found humor in deprecatingly dry situations but was, for an untimely change, drawing a blank at the sight of Nathaniel Wesninski.

At first glance, the backliner didn’t seem like much.

He hadn’t seemed like anything much other than high on the first night that Andrew had the displeasure of meeting Nathaniel; the man had been swaying on his feet with a familiar delirious look in his eyes, and Andrew couldn’t help but see a younger Aaron before the latter had gotten clean.

That was a subconscious strike one for Nathaniel.

It took about halfway through the night for Andrew to even realize that Nathaniel was most definitely not on any substance by choice, seeing as though his tolerance level disconnected him from the land of the living.

He had watched, silent, as Nathaniel passed out in a heap on the locker room floor.

All Riko Moriyama had done at the sight of his teammate falling unconscious was laugh, chalking it up to the boy being ‘tired’ and something about ‘painkillers.’

That was a consciously noted strike three for Riko.

The bastard had expected Andrew to be grateful for “persuading” the court to take him off his meds, but they both knew that wasn’t really why Andrew had finally signed with the Ravens.

Riko had the gall to threaten Aaron and Nicky, and suddenly, Andrew’s options were made clearer.

He had a promise to uphold.

Except things weren’t quite as clear anymore, not where Wesninski was involved at least.

Riko was scheming.

Holding Nathaniel accountable for Andrew’s fuck-ups would make sense if Andrew wasn’t, well, himself.

He didn’t give a damn about the battered backliner.

Riko could do what he liked with Wesninski, and Andrew wouldn’t bat an eye. Keeping Aaron and Nicky safe were his only priorities, and he wouldn’t break off his end of the deal to them by focusing on some exy-obsessed cult member’s predicament.

Because that is what the Ravens were, after all: a cult.

Andrew wasn’t blind.

He hadn’t been here long, but the past week of practice was long enough to see that the team was split between predator and prey.

He wanted nothing to do with it.

In fact, he wanted nothing at all.

On his medication, nothing had existed. He was walking in a dream, wading through syrup while time brushed by without a second glance.

Off his medication, everything existed, and that was the problem.

Too much, too fast, but too slow. He felt nothing.

Not that he’d wanted to feel in the first place. Wanting and feeling were habits that he’d grown out of with ease.

Now, though, now Andrew almost felt a peak of curiosity, nothing like interest but nearly similar.

It was a strange spark of something, and it intensified at the sight of Nathaniel Wesninski’s stiffening form.

Tetsuji Moriyama stood on the Edgar Allen court with distain, and next to him loomed an unidentifiable man who was somewhat familiar.

Andrew would completely disregard their presence had it not been for Wesninski’s peculiar reaction.

Andrew did not watch Nathaniel at practice.

He didn’t.

The backliner was nothing and a no one, however, Andrew could begrudgingly accept that Nathaniel wasn’t necessarily hard on the eyes.

So he’d glimpsed over, just once, and found the man standing stalk still.

 _Curious_.

The mystery man standing at Tetsuji’s side gleamed a thin, raking smile that bared teeth, his gaze leveling out directly on to Nathaniel, and Andrew put two and two together slower than he would ever admit.

This was Nathaniel’s father.

The similarities between their facial features were almost uncanny, age withering away at the older Wesninski aside.

Nathaniel was frozen on his feet, seemingly incapable of moving, and Andrew caught Riko quietly chuckling out of the corner of his eye.

Andrew grit his teeth together.

Nathaniel had not mentioned anyone else coming into the picture regarding Riko’s little partnership system.

He certainly hadn’t mentioned a father who seemed content to wrestle with the idea of devouring his son.

Andrew did not believe in family. Now he was close to surety that Nathaniel most likely didn’t either.

“Nathaniel,” Tetsuji called from across the court.

The coach crooked his fingers in a gesture to come closer. The backliner, Andrew noticed, was shaking, but he followed the order smoothly, pacing the court like he was mandating his own death sentence.

Nathaniel met with the two older men at the head of the court, and Andrew watched him flinch away from his father when the man clapped a hand on to Nathaniel’s shoulder.

The three left, and Andrew heard the sound of the door shutting behind them like a gunshot.

He wouldn’t be surprised, he caught himself thinking offhandedly, if he never saw Nathaniel Wesninski again.

***

Coming to terms with death was an ongoing theme for Nathaniel.

He’d found himself peering over that edge, enough encounters with the idea of taking his last breath to actually prepare for that final exhale.

He didn’t want to die.

He also didn’t have much of a say on the matter, not where his father was concerned.

Nathaniel heard the slam of the court door shut behind him, his father’s hand crushing his shoulder in a bruising grip, and distantly recognized that this might actually be it for him.

He didn’t look at his father, couldn’t bring himself to remove his stare from the floor beneath him.

Coach Moriyama led them down a lengthy corridor silently, directing them towards his office. Nathaniel had only been inside of the master’s private space once, and he’d left it unconscious in the arms of Jean.

“It’s been so long, Junior.”

Nathaniel breathed in, breathed out.

“It has,” he agreed quietly.

His shoulder burned with an itch beneath his father’s hand, and Nathaniel wanted nothing more than to just claw the skin off.

The Nest had always been too dark, too closed in, but Nathaniel hadn’t really felt claustrophobic until now, trapped between two malicious men with no way out.

Part of him couldn’t believe that Riko had actually done it. He’d actually gotten into contact with Nathaniel’s father, all because of his petty hierarchy.

Even for Riko, this was a plan that Nathaniel wasn’t expecting to really ever fall into place.

Coach Moriyama stopped at his door, turning to Nathaniel and Nathan with a look of appraisal.

“You have three hours.”

Nathan nodded with a respect that Nathaniel was unused to seeing from his father. The man was cold, calculating, and never bowed down to anyone standing before him: anyone but the Moriyamas, apparently.

His father steered Nathaniel into the Master’s office, who closed the door behind the pair. The soft snick of a lock clicking into place was the final nail in the coffin.

Nathaniel was alone with his own personal nightmare.

There was nowhere to run.

Nathan crossed his arms, eyes never leaving Nathaniel, and shook his head.

“I’m disappointed,” he murmured, “not surprised though. You were always horrible at following orders.”

Nathaniel swallowed, and his back hit the door in an unconscious attempt to escape.

 _Nowhere to run_.

His father shifted closer, and his façade of calm wavered slightly, anger flitting across his face in increments.

“I had to leave Lola in charge of things back in Baltimore,” Nathan’s eyes twitched. “Had to drop everything I was working on, come all this way just because my failure of a son can’t play a damn sport.”

Nathaniel wanted to correct him, tell him that this had nothing to do with exy or even failure: it was just Riko. Riko’s way of getting in his head, Riko’s attempt at forcing Nathaniel into line.

He couldn’t speak, though. Couldn’t even breathe with his father this close.

There was nowhere to run.

“You think that _this_ —” Nathan yanked Nathaniel’s neck in a choke-hold, “is how I want to spend my time? Cleaning up your messes?”

Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut.

“No, sir.”

“ _Look at me when I am speaking to you_ ,” his father demanded, furious.

This wasn’t real. Nathan wasn’t here. He hadn’t seen his father in years, and it couldn’t be possible; he wasn’t really here, not real, impossible.

Nathaniel flinched back at meeting Nathan’s murderous gaze.

The first punch thrown was the worst, and everything after sent Nathaniel reeling back to years of familiar pain.

***

Andrew had dismissed Nathaniel’s dramatic exit from practice relatively quick.

It was after the court had cleared and still no sign of Nathaniel’s sauntering movement that Andrew began to think.

There were other pieces coming into play, Riko’s attempt at wearing his teammates down intermittent but dangerous nonetheless.

If the Moriyamas were willing to involve family members in their tribulations, Andrew was going to have to be more precarious than he’d originally planned.

He’d been pragmatic in isolating himself from the Ravens, Riko and Nathaniel included. Calculating the fall out and collateral damage came easy, and there wasn’t a second he’d spent in this prison that he wasn’t using to be strategic.

Nathaniel’s father, uncle, whoever that man had been changed things though.

That man meant Riko had access to people, history of which he shouldn’t have access to.

Andrew was going to receive answers, and then he was going to make a deal.

Two hours after practice and still no sign of Wesninski had him near impatient.

_Curiosity, impatience, what’s next?_

Perhaps he would welcome whatever came next. Perhaps he would slam a door in its face.

_Caution._

Andrew didn’t outright search for Nathaniel.

He wouldn’t stoop to desperation to get answers, and he didn’t plan on being accommodating either.

However, he’d covered the entirety of the Nest with no flashes of red hair or icy blue eyes. The locker room was empty. Jean was unaccompanied, and Andrew rarely saw the former without Wesninski by his side.

The only Raven whom Andrew had ever willingly responded to was Kevin Day, and the term ‘willingly respond’ was already pushing it.

That didn’t stop him from backing the striker into a corner that night.

“Wesninski,” Andrew stated, not as a question but a demand.

Kevin had the nerve to look hesitant at the name, rubbing at his arm and searching the room for eavesdroppers.

He shrugged.

“I don’t think Riko wants us to—”

“Where?” Andrew ordered, “don’t make me ask again.”

Kevin glared, eyes still roaming in caution of a nearby Riko but let out a sigh that said he’d given in.

“Jean would know. Not me,” he huffed, “Nathaniel doesn’t like me very much.”

“I wonder why,” Andrew returned dryly and left Kevin to himself.

Moreau was far more of a difficult read than Kevin, his grey eyes scrutinizingly judgmental.

Andrew stared back, unimpressed.

“Why do you need to find him?” Jean asked haughtily. “It is your fault that he’s in this mess in the first place.”

“And you’ve been so helpful,” Andrew inquired, “watching Riko beat the shit out of him.”

Jean was the first to look away, hands clenched.

“There is nothing that you can do for him anymore,” Jean gritted his jaw and the words came out stinted, but Andrew understood them just the same.

Nathaniel’s father was a breaking point.

“I don’t give a damn about Nathaniel,” Andrew said. “Do not mistake this for charity. If you want to help him, you’ll tell me where he is.”

Jean studied him in silence.

Aaron had always told Andrew that he was dramatic. He’d mutter it underneath his breath after an argument, calling him petty and dishonest. Andrew’s “dramatic” tendencies, it seemed, had nothing on Raven antics.

Jean cursed a string of French that Andrew understood none of before turning away.

“He goes to the boiler room when he is stressed,” Jean shortly supplied.

Andrew thought ‘stress’ was an interesting term to use but didn’t bother replying.

That was all that he stuck around for.

***

Nathaniel did not look up at Andrew’s approach.

He was curled into a ball, arms hugging his knees with his head ducked out of sight, his back wedged in the corner of the boiler room.

Andrew didn’t know what exactly about the dark and enclosed space was supposed to soothe Nathaniel, and he didn’t care enough to ask.

“Riko’s punching bag and daddy issues to boot?” Andrew sighed, “you’re a walking tragedy.”

Nathaniel’s shoulders tensed, but he still didn’t look up.

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Andrew hovered.

Nathaniel’s lack of response was discerningly irritating, but Andrew shoved the mild annoyance aside and nudged Nathaniel’s leg with his foot.

“ _Don’t_ ,” the backliner finally lifted his head to glare a hole into Andrew, but the rage lost its effect when Andrew caught sight of the bruises covering Nathaniel’s face.

Nathaniel’s expression was pure alarm and apprehension, as if he were waiting for a blow to come.

 _Another_ blow to come, it seemed.

“Don’t,” Nathaniel gratingly repeated.

Andrew backed up a step.

“Just how many problems do you have, exactly, Wesninski?” Andrew asked, not expecting a response.

Nathaniel shuddered.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Because of your father?”

That question was returned with a dark look, one that Andrew knew all too well.

 _Almost curious enough to be interesting_.

Nathaniel took a shallow breath before ducking his head between his knees again.

“Go away.”

Andrew cocked his head despite Nathaniel not being able to see it and squatted down so that he was level with the backliner.

“You won’t want me to,” Andrew replied matter-of-factly. “Not if you listen closely.”

Nathaniel’s voice was muffled, but the bite in his words was sharp.

“I want _nothing_ from you.” 

“You already do want something from me,” Andrew returned. “That pride might be the death of you, Nathaniel. I’m sure Riko would love to speed the process up, anyways.”

Andrew made to get up, to let that thought sink in, but Nathaniel shifted. The backliner eyed him warily, but lifted his gaze to Andrew’s.

“What do you want?” he asked hoarsely.

Andrew tilted his head.

“Let’s make a deal.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus! Now that holiday season's almost over things should be getting back to normal. 
> 
> TW for mentions/implications of abuse, mental breakdowns depicted

_Let’s make a deal_.

Nathaniel sat frozen, silence stretching between himself and Minyard as he watched the other man carefully.

Andrew didn’t look like he was kidding. Nathaniel didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him just like he didn’t trust last-ditch effort deals, but Minyard simply stared back, calmly waiting for a response.

Before he could manage to contain himself, Nathaniel laughed.

It came out borderline hysterical and his face ached from the wide grin, but he couldn’t force himself to stop.

Today had been hell for him. He’d seen his father for the first time in years, had come out of the confrontation alive, yet he didn’t feel like he was really here in the Nest. His past had caught up to him and now he was mentally trapped in his father’s basement, in Baltimore, in a grave six feet under.

He was suffocating, and even away from his father’s fists, there was still nowhere to run.

Nathaniel clamped a hand over his mouth to smother the obnoxious laughter but he merely muffled it; he probably sounded deranged, a carbon copy of his father.

“Enough.”

Andrew gripped Nathaniel’s wrist firmly and tugged his hand away from Nathaniel’s dissipating grin.

Nathaniel’s skin burned where it made contact with Andrew’s, and he sharply tore his arm away from the goalkeeper’s grasp. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, adrenaline fading fast and leaving him exhausted.

He met Andrew’s almost-contemplative stare and resolutely shook his head.

“You’re insane if you think I want anything to do with you.”

Andrew shrugged, too nonchalant to mean that he wasn’t poised for a fight, and swiftly plucked a knife out from beneath his armbands. Nathaniel went still.

It was too much.

He couldn’t deal with any new scars right now, not after today. Even for his admittedly low standards for comfort, Nathaniel wasn’t sure if he could handle any more pain. He bowed his head between his knees and tried to make himself as small as possible, straining to hear Andrew’s quiet movements.

The goalkeeper sat beside him, his presence notably too close, and if Nathaniel could just disappear into thin air, he would do so without even a second thought regarding where he’d end up.

The thickening tension stole all of the air from the room, the tick of anticipation growing louder by the second, but Andrew didn’t touch him. He remained by Nathaniel’s side, silently waiting for something that was lost on Nathaniel.

“You conveniently forgot to mention that Riko is holding a sadistic relative over your head.”

Nathaniel stiffened, Andrew’s words almost as confusing as the entirety of this day had been.

“I didn’t realize we had a heart-to-heart scheduled,” he let out unsteadily, “would it have made a difference?”

“No,” Andrew replied shortly.

Nathaniel’s fingernails bit into his palm where he clenched his fingers, aching to let out all of his frustrations.

“Then why bother bringing it up?”

Andrew shifted, and Nathaniel lifted his head to peek at the blonde beside him. The knife still sat in Andrew’s hand but the goalkeeper didn’t hold it defensively, simply cradling the blade in thought. It was strange to see something so dangerous held so lightly, like the world wasn’t currently weighing down in Andrew’s palm.

Nathaniel didn’t understand how anyone could handle a knife like that, but that was probably just his history thinking for him.

“He’s making good on his threats to you,” Andrew curtly responded, “I won’t have him following through with what he has planned for me.”

What—

“What does he have on you?” Nathaniel asked.

Andrew just leveled another empty stare at him and raised his knife so that the artificial lighting above caught the shine of the blade.

Nathaniel unwillingly flinched, but Andrew didn’t make any further moves.

“I’ll give you something that you need, and in return, you will get me access to a phone,” Andrew said.

Nathaniel’s mind blanked, short-circuiting for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

He wasn’t allowed to use technology, partly because his father had warned Tetsuji of Nathaniel’s mother’s plans to run away but mostly because not even Jean trusted him with a connection to the outside world, being the Raven’s dirty little secret and all.

Most Ravens had phone privileges.

Nathaniel was not one of them.

“I don’t need anything from you,” Nathaniel snapped, “and I can’t get you a phone when I’m not even allowed one myself.”

Andrew pointedly raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve seen Kevin with one,” he insisted.

Hot rage threatened to rise at that insinuation. Nathaniel squinted at Andrew like he could see through the goalkeeper’s seemingly thick skull.

“Yeah,” he bit out, “well not everyone gets to be the _Great Kevin Day_.”

“You are talented enough to find a way, I’m sure,” Andrew returned.

“And for?” Nathaniel interrogated. “What could you possibly give me?”

Andrew spun the knife in the air with ease, practiced and petulantly stubborn. For a moment, Nathaniel just watched the goalkeeper deftly twirl the blade, annoyance combatting with curiosity, but after a few seconds of terse silence, he caught on.

Andrew wielded the blade not with violence but in defense.

“Protection,” Andrew supplied.

The idea of even needing protection in the first place made Nathaniel’s skin crawl and trusting Andrew with that obligation made the matter ten times worse.

Nathaniel scoffed.

“My problems don’t end with Riko, in case that wasn’t clear from today,” he said slowly, and Andrew let out a huff of impatience.

“Your father?” he guessed, “I assume he has no incentive to come back without Riko’s complaints, unless you two block out a specific date for family bonding exercises.”

And that was mostly true, Nathaniel allowed, ignoring Andrew’s sarcasm.

Nathan Wesninski had an empire to uphold and enough complex deals to distract himself from who the man deemed as his worthless son. Nathaniel doubted his father would want anything else to do with him any time soon, fingers crossed. However, a redaction of that threat could only mean one thing.

“You’re going to start trying at practice?” he asked Andrew, and the question came out just as surprised as Nathaniel actually felt at the implication of the goalkeeper putting in any effort on the court.

Andrew said nothing but that was answer enough.

Nathaniel closed his eyes, let out a sigh that might’ve even been relief, could’ve been gratitude, and tried to ground himself to the present.

He was going to make it, at least for now.

“I can get you a phone but only for a limited amount of time,” Nathaniel offered.

It was the best he could do.

Andrew accepted that without a word or even a nod and got up from the floor of the boiler room.

Nathaniel was partly miffed at the idea of Andrew knowing his secret spot but pointing out his irritation would be useless. If Andrew followed through with his promise, Nathaniel wouldn’t have to come down here for a long while anyways.

By the time Andrew had left and Nathaniel was capable of convincing himself to get up, he was strung out. He’d been ripped to shreds and gingerly pieced back together in the span of a few hours and despite his frequent difficulties with falling asleep, tonight wouldn’t be a problem for him.

He practically felt himself crashing when he met a fearful Jean standing outside of their door.

 _Waiting_ , Nathaniel assumed.

Jean scoured him, focus latching on to the bruises splattered across his face. Nathaniel hadn’t gotten a look at them yet, avoiding the Nest’s already-scarce mirrors at all costs. He assumed they appeared just as awful as they felt though.

“Minyard was looking for you,” Jean said quietly.

So that was how Andrew had found him.

“I need your help,” was all Nathaniel responded with, and he pushed Jean into their room without a glance behind them.

Ravens weren’t given locks on their doors, but Nathaniel made do by planting his back firmly between the exit and Jean.

“I made a deal with Andrew.”

Jean stared at him, face blank with surprise.

Nathaniel continued, the next part a bit more difficult to get out.

“If I get him access to a phone, he’ll get Riko off my back.”

Jean’s expression was unreadable for a minute of taut quiet before he let out a humorless laugh.

Nathaniel stared back unabashed, waiting for Jean to calm down. When Jean’s cold smile went slack, he shook his head with what looked like concern.

“Nathaniel, I understand that today was more—” he cut himself off, thinking. “—more complex for you than Riko’s typical qualms, but this is not sensible.”

 _Complex_.

It was a slap in the face coming from Jean. Nathaniel would expect Kevin to let out that level of garbage but his partner was supposed to understand. Jean was supposed to get it.

“You told me I needed to solve the problem, so I did,” Nathaniel bit out.

Jean assessed him wearily, a sharp anger distorting his features.

“Not like this,” he tried, “you know that I cannot give you a phone, let alone give Minyard one.”

“But you can,” Nathaniel stressed, “Riko won’t know.”

“Riko _always_ knows,” Jean snarled and he beat his fist back against the door, rattling Nathaniel with it.

If Nathaniel couldn’t get the phone then he wouldn’t get freedom from his father. Riko would bring the man back again and again until Nathaniel was nothing but a shell of a person, any sort of fight burned out. He’d assumed Jean would be resistant to the plan at first, but there was no compromise in the backliner’s expression, no room for resolutions.

“Jean,” Nathaniel tried, and the exhaustion weighing him down coupled with the possibility of a solution so close burned the backs of his eyes til they grew blurry, “I can’t see my father again.”

Jean’s gaze softened only slightly but his voice was still burdened with anger.

“I cannot do this for you,” he said, “I’m sorry, Nathaniel.”

Subtly, if not gently, Jean nudged him from the doorway and left him to his concaving thoughts.

Nathaniel had wrongfully assumed that he’d sleep easy that night.

He spent the majority of it fretfully tossing and turning in his bed, Jean’s stare blaring a hole into his back. Nathaniel wouldn’t speak to him, didn’t know what was left to even say:

“Fuck you, for putting me in an impossible situation by refusing to help”?

Or better yet, “Thank you, for not having my back after almost eight miserable years of being stuck together.”

He couldn’t push the dread of having to break off a deal with Andrew out of his thoughts; he didn’t know how the psychopath would handle it, didn’t know how he was going to come up with another solution to Riko’s scheming.

Would Andrew take something else in return for his trying at practice?

Nathaniel didn’t take the goalkeeper as the bargaining type, and if Andrew already knew that Kevin had access to a phone, it was likely he’d just move on from Nathaniel and find a new outlet for whatever contact he needed.

By the time Jean’s breathing had evened out into steady rhythm that signified he was asleep, Nathaniel was still wide awake.

His father had stood mere inches away from him today. His father had been so close that Nathaniel had felt his heaving breaths on his neck, angry. Always angry.

His father had looked him in the eyes, rage seeping into every crack in Nathaniel’s calm façade. That façade didn’t last long anyways.

His father had been _here_. His father had—

Nathaniel stopped breathing, clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the gasp of shock hitting his system.

His father had been here, standing in front of him today.

He couldn’t breathe.

The world was catching up to him, today’s events actually sinking in.

 _His father_ —

Nathaniel abruptly shoved himself off of his bed, panting blindly in the dark, and sprinted out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok Ok so it's a lot of angst right now but things will mellow out eventually, I promise 
> 
> Thank you for the kind comments and support!!
> 
> TW for panic attack, mentions of parental abuse, Riko being Riko

Nathaniel skidded into the common area of the Nest as quietly as he could but was certain that the effort was a lost cause.

The space surrounding him was too open, too many crevices and nooks for someone to hide behind. He couldn’t focus on regulating his breathing, slowing his heartrate, maintaining a silence that wouldn’t wake Riko and his Ravens without properly monitoring the possibilities of danger.

For all he knew, his father could be staying in Evermore overnight. Maybe Nathan hadn’t even left yet.

Maybe he was waiting to strike again tomorrow.

Nathaniel knew he was being paranoid, a part of him recognizing the dubious scenarios his mind was relaying, but he couldn’t _focus_.

“Nathaniel,” someone said in the dark.

He nearly jumped out of his own skin at that.

After years of living in the opaque conditions of the Nest, Nathaniel’s eyes had become accustomed to the blackness beneath the Edgar Allen Stadium; right now though, panic seeped into his line of sight, vision clouded and everything too blurry and if he could just _focus_ —

“ _Nathaniel_ ,” that someone repeated, and Nathaniel flinched backwards, away from the man’s voice and into a wall.

He was cornered.

His father was going to kill him. He was going to finish the job he’d been waiting to complete since Nathaniel first rejected holding a knife, cutting into the flesh of dead animals—

Something brushed by Nathaniel’s arm and he let out a stifled yelp.

His head was pounding, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and he couldn’t focus or see or sense who was standing in front of him.

He tried to speak but it came out all wrong, mangled, “ _Wait_.”

The figure in front of him stood still, not even moving an inch, and that couldn’t be right because since when did Nathaniel’s father ever actually listen to him?

Nathaniel tried to breathe or maybe understand what the hell was happening but both attempts were futile and his chest heaved against a pressure that wouldn’t let up.

“You need to calm down,” his father scolded, and Nathaniel shut his eyes against the man’s words.

“I can’t—” Nathaniel tried, gasping for air that wasn’t there, and he just wanted to focus and for this to be over but it wasn’t ending—

A hand pressed firmly against the back of his neck and shoved him down to his knees, his back sliding down the wall resistlessly. Nathaniel barely registered the impact; the hand tightened its grasp.

Something wasn’t adding up.

His father would never hold him like this.

Nathan was a man of fury, and while this grip was tight, his father’s was relentless, impossible to break.

“What?” Nathaniel managed to choke out.

“Stop,” someone, a faintly recognizable voice dead-panned.

The tone, the emptily bleak monotone could only belong to one person.

Nathaniel shuddered against Andrew’s hand holding him down but didn’t try to move. He counted in his head down from one-hundred in French and tried to get his breath back. By the time he reached the number one, he was faintly surprised to see that Andrew hadn’t let go yet.

Nathaniel was unsteady, grasping at straws, and the thought of someone watching him fight just to keep calm provoked another wave of anxiety.

Andrew spoke again.

“Enough. You’re over-thinking.”

If Nathaniel could lash out against the man currently holding him, he would. Instead he settled for clenching his hands in an attempt to alleviate the stress, confusion.

“You don’t understand,” he replied, but it came out hoarse and a mere whisper.

 _Fuck_.

“And you don’t listen,” Andrew retorted, “Enough.”

Nathaniel’s heartbeat slowed steadily as time continued to pass. He was no longer sure how long he and Andrew had just been sitting for, and he didn’t understand why Andrew was even doing this, wasting his time with Nathaniel instead of catching up on sleep.

Eventually, Andrew removed his hand from Nathaniel’s neck and simply settled a heavy gaze on his shaking form instead.

It was that void stare that reminded Nathaniel of what he’d have to relinquish, the deal he’d have to give up now.

He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out easy.

Nathaniel, despite his compelling need to remain independent, didn’t want to let safety go so soon.

“I can’t get you a phone,” he met Andrew’s stare and held it.

Andrew didn’t look away, and Nathaniel hadn’t noticed how green the man’s eyes were until now, almost hypnotic.

“Elaborate.” Andrew stonily said and his expression left no room for compromise.

Nathaniel swallowed against a growing knot in his throat,

“I miscalculated,” he shrugged in a fake nonchalance that he doubted Andrew fell for. “I thought Jean would help after what happened today. With my father.”

“You were wrong,” Andrew said, not so much a question as it was a statement of truth, filling in the gaps where Nathaniel didn’t want to.

He felt blindsided by Jean. It was stupid to give into that self-pity, Nathaniel knew, but that knowledge didn’t stop the dwelling anger that brewed when he thought about the pain that was delivered by Riko in place of Jean, pain that he’d been the one to take.

Nathaniel was no saint and he would never deserve more than this life, but watching Jean leave him spiraling felt like betrayal.

He could practically hear his mother reprimanding his reliance on someone other than himself.

Nathaniel had tried so hard not to trust. He shouldn’t trust. He didn’t trust.

He looked at Andrew standing before him and cleared his throat but his voice still trembled.

“I’m not as stupid as you probably think I am. I know what this means for our deal.”

Andrew tilted his head, scouring Nathaniel with a look of distain.

“And you won’t ask,” Andrew’s lip curled as he said this, like he was mocking his own words.

Nathaniel didn’t catch on to what he was referring to; something questioning in his eyes must’ve given him away because Andrew clarified, “For protection.”

Nathaniel responded without hesitation, didn’t even have to think about.

“Nothing comes for free,” he ground out. He allowed his stare to wander to Andrew’s armbands, bands of which Nathaniel had seen Andrew sheath his knife underneath earlier that day. “But you already knew that, right?”

Andrew didn’t answer the veiled accusation, opting for turning his back on Nathaniel and remitting that inscrutable gaze that left Nathaniel pinned to the floor.

“Kevin’s your next best bet,” Nathaniel whispered before Andrew left him to dissolve in thoughts of his father and his knives. “For the phone.”

The goalkeeper stopped but only turned around halfway to face him. Nathaniel took that as a cue to continue.

“He might be a coward but he’d do anything to put some distance between himself and Riko.”

 _Even at the expense of other people_.

A thin, cold smile spread on Andrew’s face, but Nathaniel couldn’t pinpoint what he’d said that would elicit the reaction. He felt swarmed, tired, and drifting somewhere beyond the Nest and the Ravens; he couldn’t understand Andrew’s thought process on a good day as is.

“You are awfully resigned to this dead-man-walking lifestyle of yours,” Andrew murmured, “considering you just spent thirty minutes having a panic attack on the floor.”

This time, Nathaniel’s uncaring shrug didn’t need to be forced. 

“I’ll figure something out.”

Andrew crossed his arms, his black bands blending in with the dark, and Nathaniel realized that Andrew had described his thoughts almost perfectly: resigned.

“And that strategy has worked out well for you,” Andrew sneered, “those bruises really bring out the blue in your eyes.”

Nathaniel barely covered his flinch at the reminder of his father’s fists.

“I don’t think I need to explain to you what the cost of survival is,” he steeled in response, “I barely trusted you even when you had an incentive. If you’re trying to goad me into asking for your help, I won’t.”

Andrew looked at him for a moment longer, silent.

“Then don’t.”

And walked away.

***

Practice was hell. When was it not?

Andrew still didn’t cooperate with Riko’s ‘Raven standards’: no surprise there. Nathaniel hadn’t expected anything different, especially after the goalkeeper had left him curled up on the floor, shaking out of his seams last night.

Nathaniel watched as Minyard caught up with Kevin during break and dragged the striker off the court with a hand in Day’s jersey.

 _For the best_.

Nathaniel coerced himself into believing that the only reason he’d agreed to a deal with Andrew in the first place was because he was in the middle of a mental breakdown at the time, but he found himself unable to shove a bitter resentment away at the sight of Kevin treading after Minyard like a lost puppy.

It was for the best.

But was it?

It didn’t matter anymore.

It sure as hell didn’t matter when Riko shoved Nathaniel against the lockers after practice with a snarl.

“You never learn, do you?”

Nathaniel ignored the spittle that flew on to his jersey at Riko’s clipped words and smirked. He knew how much it infuriated the Moriyama.

Riko grabbed hold of his shoulders and slammed him back against the lockers once more. The attention of the rest of the team was trained solely on Nathaniel. The locker room was completely silent aside from Riko’s heavy breathing, enraged.

“Your father goes out of his way to teach you a lesson and you have the audacity to find this funny?”

Nathaniel didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to grovel to Riko. He doubted the latter would listen anyways.

He offhandedly noticed that both Andrew and Kevin were still missing.

Riko gripped Nathaniel’s chin and forcibly dragged his stare back to what was in front of him: a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“I gave you directions, no, _orders_ ,” Riko snapped, “to get Minyard under control.”

This went beyond Riko’s frequent bouts of anger; he’d obviously expected results after Nathaniel’s father had arrived yesterday. Like Nathaniel, Riko had miscalculated.

Nathaniel grinned a fierce, broken thing. There were no chances left for him here. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him to fight his way out of this mess. Maybe there never was.

His only option, at this point, was to bear the brunt of Riko’s violence.

“You chose to enforce those orders through the Butcher. Don’t be surprised I’m not kissing your ass instead of his.”

It was like he could hear a pin drop, the room grew so quiet.

Nathaniel could almost see Jean out of the corner of his eye, morosely afraid for himself.

Never quite afraid for Nathaniel though.

Riko backed up a step.

He let go of Nathaniel’s shoulders with a patience that was the calm before the storm, but Nathaniel highly doubted anyone in the room was fooled by Riko’s sudden air of casual. There was a malevolence in the striker’s stare that had only ever been matched by Nathan Wesninski’s.

Riko took a deep breath.

And grabbed Nathaniel by the wrist, ignoring the openly obvious attention of the other Ravens tracking their every step.

Nathaniel didn’t bother resisting Riko’s grip, and no one would stop what was certain to happen.

No one ever even put in enough effort to speak up about it. The Ravens below Riko’s composed hierarchy all turned a blind eye to the abuse suffered by Jean, Nathaniel, and occasionally Kevin.

Sometimes, they’d even lend a hand in the matter.

Riko tugged Nathaniel out of the locker room and forced him to keep up with a brisk pace.

Instead of turning left where Nathaniel’s room was though, they turned right.

This had happened only twice before during Nathaniel’s time at the Nest. Kevin would stay in Jean’s room tonight, and Nathaniel would be kept up for the next six hours while Riko played with his knives.

A cold, dead part of Nathaniel silently mocked his own misfortune. Whatever stops Riko attempted to pull out, it’d be nothing compared to seeing his father for the first time in years.

That thought shouldn’t have been as comforting as it was.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not getting around to reading comments. I appreciate ya'll :))
> 
> Well then 
> 
> TW for violence

Andrew watched as Kevin sat trembling before him. The striker hadn’t removed his eyes from his own twitching hands clenched in his lap since Andrew had demanded a phone; it’d been five minutes of a silence that would ebb away into violence if Day didn’t get his act together soon.

After the past twenty-four hours, Andrew no longer held the mental capacity to babysit anymore Ravens.

Especially now that Nathaniel was no longer in the picture of promises.

Andrew didn’t form soft spots for dead-end tragedies. If he was in the mood to ponder introspection, he’d revel in his own lack of empathy. However, there was something about the blue-eyed Raven that curbed emptiness: curiosity.

Andrew hadn’t experienced much provoked-thought since his medicine.

It came in fleeting bursts, but it was there nonetheless, igniting whenever Nathaniel only further proved that he held a certain understanding of how the world worked. Like the Raven had seen his fair share of cruelty.

Andrew didn’t doubt it.

He also didn’t doubt that Nathaniel was stubborn and the man’s mouth would probably continue to dig a hole that was already so deep because of Andrew himself.

He didn’t care, refused to spare a thought towards Nathaniel.

Except that wasn’t working out so well.

It wasn’t guilt that Andrew felt; that would only give Riko exactly what he wanted, and Andrew was nothing if not spiteful. He prided himself on that.

But the curiosity of Nathaniel was meant to shrink due to exposure from a promise of protection, a deal that would grant Nathaniel his desperately-craved safety and Andrew his connection to the outside world.

Now Andrew stood in front of a cowering Kevin Day; the striker sat curled on his bed in attempt to ward off further talk of disobeying Riko, but the cracks were starting to show. Andrew would be stupid not to see how much Kevin wanted away from his brother.

“There’s no way,” Kevin breathed out as if the words were being forcefully removed from him.

“You have a phone, yes?”

“Well—”

“Yes or no question.”

Kevin shook his head, misery etched into his features like a permanent sharpie. Patience was a virtue.

Andrew was not a virtuous man.

“How much longer do you plan on being Riko’s pet?”

That earned him a scathing look, but he swept it aside as Kevin seemed to choke on the idea of no longer being treated like an object. The decision was easy, however Andrew knew that wasn’t the part of this deal that Kevin was having trouble with.

The fall-out of Riko learning that he could no longer lay a hand on his brother would be explosive.

Andrew didn’t care.

He especially didn’t care if that explosion put Nathaniel in the line of fire. Nathaniel, with his trust issues, his temper, his blue eyes.

Andrew subtly shook his head, dislodging thoughts of troublesome Raven backliners.

“You can’t seriously expect to keep Riko away from me,” Kevin repeated for what was the tenth time now.

“I do what I please,” Andrew shrugged, “you switch rooms to mine, get me a phone, I handle the rest.”

Kevin snorted in disbelief.

“Like it’s that easy?”

“It can be,” is all Andrew bothered to reply with.

Kevin opened his mouth to say something, an agreement or an accusation, but a knock at the door sent him flinching into the backboard of his bed. The striker shot a startled look that bounced between Andrew and the impending voice coming from the hallway.

“Kevin,” Riko’s unmistakably snobbish tone somehow managed to take on a new level of arrogance, “I need the room cleared tonight.”

_How convenient._

Andrew sent a glance in Kevin’s direction to see the latter shift into movement but didn’t wait. He strode over to the door, black paint chipped from an indubitably violent-Riko, and promptly opened it to see a deer caught in headlights.

Or rather, a Raven.

Riko had one hand curled around the back of Nathaniel’s neck, the other biting fingernails into Wesninski’s wrist. It was an uncomfortable position but Nathaniel looked far away from it, uncaring and, for once, passive.

Riko’s beady eyes shot from Kevin to Andrew in a split-second, and a fraction of surprise crossed his features before schooling himself back to his default setting of sanctimony. Andrew stared him down.

One thing he’d grown bored of relatively quick in the Nest was Riko.

Andrew had a knack for analysis, didn’t enjoy it but allowed himself to calculate his surroundings and the people in it for an unconscious upper hand. It was almost like a game.

It’d taken him all but one day to break down Riko Moriyama, his inner turmoil, the anguish that he forced on to those he considered subordinates in order to gain some sanctum of control.

Andrew didn’t care enough to hold a dislike for Riko, so he’d shrugged the man off as irrelevant. However, on the day that Nathaniel burst into the locker room to punctually lose his temper a new game had begun.

The issue with said game was that Andrew still hadn’t managed to piece Nathaniel together, and that was a problem.

Andrew never lost; Nathaniel just didn’t add up right.

Now Riko was skewing the pieces even further, trampling over Nathaniel and, in turn, Andrew’s theories.

Riko sneered. “Kevin, you’ve made a friend.”

Andrew didn’t bother deigning that inaccuracy of a statement with a response, instead finding the shuttered off Nathaniel much more entertaining. Nathaniel calmly slid his gaze to meet Andrew’s.

And that wouldn’t do.

Yet another layer to peel back.

 _Empty_.

Nathaniel was a mirror. He was a reflection. 

He was irritatingly interesting.

“I’ll stay with Jean,” Kevin came from behind, fear turned morose and somber.

He wouldn’t be staying with Jean, though, not after tonight. Once Kevin spun his head back on the right way, he’d agree to staying in Andrew’s line of sight til Riko was dead in a ditch somewhere. If the look on Nathaniel’s face was anything to go by, that wholesome event should be soon.

Nathaniel’s lips tilted upwards at the corners, a mockery of a smirk, at the sight of Kevin’s apparent misery.

“Why the long face, Day?”

Kevin winced; Riko noticeably tightened his grip on Nathaniel’s neck at the remark but otherwise ignored Nathaniel in favor of sizing up Andrew.

_Incredibly boring._

“If you don’t mind, Minyard,” Riko gestured to the crowded doorway.

Andrew made no move to shift out of the way, and Kevin spoke up, albeit hesitantly.

“Conditioning for the season starts soon,” he looked from Riko to Nathaniel, “Nathaniel needs rest.”

That was slightly less boring.

Riko raised an eyebrow, going rigid. Nathaniel’s reaction to Kevin’s words was far less obvious, but Andrew caught it anyway. The Raven stiffened, probably just as uncertain as Kevin himself at the sudden opposition.

“He will be just fine,” Riko smiled in a way that said Nathaniel would not, in fact, be just fine, “you’re always fine, right four?”

Nathaniel flinched, and Andrew tracked the movement smoothly. He recalled Riko saying something similar along those lines weeks ago when they’d come to see him play at Macon.

 _‘He’s fine,’_ Riko had said, right before Nathaniel had collapsed on to the floor.

“We need him in shape,” Kevin insisted.

Riko’s smile turned sour, eyes aflame with mirth.

“Perfect. I am shaping him up. Unless you want to join, you’ll move.”

Kevin swallowed, looking sick, and opened his mouth like he was going to say something else but seemed to think better of it.

It was amusing while it lasted, Andrew supposed.

He watched Kevin shrug robotically and step out of Riko’s way; all that was left standing in the doorway was Andrew.

He could just leave.

He didn’t need to stay rooted in between Nathaniel and whatever Riko had planned for him tonight. He could walk away with Kevin at his side, let Nathaniel stow in his problems and forget they’d ever spoken. It wouldn’t be difficult to let go of his curiosity, and Wesninski had said it himself.

There was nothing Nathaniel could give him in exchange for his protection, and Andrew didn’t believe in one-sided deals. He wouldn’t have Nathaniel indebted to him, didn’t care enough to help the backliner without something in it for himself. He didn’t owe Nathaniel anything.

Riko hummed in expectance, tapping his foot obnoxiously.

Andrew watched half-lidded, catching bright blue eyes. He tried to convey _I don’t owe you anything_.

Because he didn’t.

There was no practical reason to help Nathaniel.

And Wesninski just stared back, a mirror.

Riko stepped forward, made to shoe Andrew out of the way.

“Nathaniel and I have some quality time to catch up on.”

Then something clicked; it was the heated look on Riko’s face, the visible scars on Nathaniel’s arms and hands, Riko’s possessive grip.

Andrew did not believe in one-sided deals.

However, he also didn’t believe in regret.

The bones in Riko’s nose crunched almost harmoniously when Andrew swung, a symphony of Nathaniel’s previously-empty eyes widening comically and Kevin audibly gasping from behind them.

Much less boring.

Andrew grabbed Riko by the shirt, the striker too dazed to do much but groan as blood dripped from his probably-broken nose. He slammed Riko against the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of the man, and for once, after an exceptionally long time, Andrew felt alive.

Kevin made another choking noise, but all Andrew could focus on was the sight of Riko’s eyes rolling into the back of his head before promptly passing out.

How fun.

Nathaniel, stunned, didn’t move from where he stood. Kevin had a hand clawed over his own mouth to stifle whatever symptoms of shock pertained to him. Riko was now slumped on the floor, unconscious, and Andrew’s work here was done.

He made a show of casually dusting off his shirt before turning to leave.

“Kevin, you’re coming,” he motioned forwards and didn’t wait to see Kevin follow.

He could feel Nathaniel’s eyes burning a hole into his back.

He didn’t care.

***

“He’s going to kill you,” Kevin moaned.

Andrew didn’t have a partner in the nest, odd number and all, so his room was always vacant. He preferred that quiet opposed to Kevin’s whining.

“He’d be down a goalkeeper.”

“He’s going to kill _me_.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. He wasn’t the least bit concerned with Riko at the moment, just needed Kevin to give him a damn phone so he could make his call. Riko wouldn’t lay a hand on him if he wanted to keep his fingers, and Andrew was going to make sure that he couldn’t touch Nicky or Aaron.

“Give me the phone, and you get to stay. Otherwise I’m sending you back to Riko and you can mop up his blood off the floor.”

Kevin grew pale at the insinuation, probably imagining the consequences of being the first thing Riko sees after waking up.

“He can’t know that I’m giving you this,” Kevin persisted, but he pulled a phone from his pocket anyhow.

Bingo.

Andrew snatched the phone from Kevin’s hesitant grip before the latter could change his mind.

“And I need that back by tonight.”

He didn’t bother responding, already looking to dial in Aaron’s number. It only took a glance to memorize before he’d left for Edgar Allen, and Nicky had made him begrudgingly promise to call. This wasn’t just him checking in though.

He was under no delusions that Riko would waste idle time before striking at Aaron and Nicky. Andrew would just have to warn them off first, send them to isolate in Columbia for a while before he could properly dispatch of Riko.

He pressed ‘Call.’

***

It was late, and someone was knocking on the door, a quiet but agitated rhythm that woke Andrew from sleep easily.

He looked to Kevin’s curled up form, tangled in a mess of sheets in the bed opposite Andrew’s. The knocking continued.

It might’ve been Riko. Could be Tetsuji wondering why his nephew had been diminished to a bloody heap. The Ravens hadn’t been called for an emergency meeting yet, but Andrew assumed the witch trials would begin eventually. He silently pushed himself off his bed, careful to be stealthy in case the worst arose.

The only way to find out who was on the other side of the door was to open it, but that could leave both himself and Kevin as targets to attack. He slipped a knife out from one of his armbands, changed his positioning to one of defense, and cracked the door open an inch.

Bright blue eyes were the first sign of danger he caught, but Nathaniel simply stood with his arms crossed, waiting.

Andrew opened the door wider.

For a moment, neither of them moved, content to just watch each other; After a few seconds of silently regarding one another, Nathaniel turned on his heel and walked away with a slight nod in the direction he was headed.

_Curiosity._

He couldn’t leave Kevin like this, though. He picked up a discarded shoe left at the foot of Kevin’s bed and chucked it at the striker without hesitation. Kevin shot up with a dramatic flail of arms and legs before deliriously meeting Andrew’s impassive stare, chest heaving from having his sleep disrupted so abruptly.

“I’m leaving. Don’t open this door for anyone unless they knock three times, see?” Andrew demonstratively knocked on the door thrice before shutting it behind him.

Nathaniel was out of sight now, but Andrew knew where to go.

The boiler room was just as dusty and cold as the last time he’d been down there, although it seemed like that had been awhile ago.

Now that there were fluorescent lights above, it was easier to spot Nathaniel’s limp as the backliner shuffled to the corner and wedged himself against the wall. He hadn’t been limping last Andrew had seen him.

That had only been a few hours ago.

“Riko’s in the infirmary,” Nathaniel smiled a sly thing, “he has a concussion.”

So many different pieces that never seemed to fit together. Nathaniel was an enigma. Andrew watched him, honed in on the smirk, the bruises, the eyes. Maybe not quite a mirror, but Wesninski was something.

“I’d maybe be impressed if you weren’t so confusing,” the backliner mused.

That made two of them then.

Andrew leaned back against the grimy wall, fine with watching Nathaniel speak for the both of them, before the latter shook his head.

“So what, you punch Riko for me, now you won’t even speak?”

“It wasn’t for you,” came out quicker than he intended, but it came out nonetheless. Nathaniel’s smile returned, smarmy, and Andrew almost wanted to carve it off of the man’s face.

“So he does speak,” Wesninski said breezily.

“You seem to do enough of it for the both of us,” Andrew retorted.

Nathaniel chuckled, at odds with the blank canvas he’d been just hours before.

“Why?” he asked Andrew, and he didn’t need to elaborate further than that.

_Why punch Riko?_

“I won’t give you information for free.”

“So trade,” Nathaniel shrugged. “Truth for truth.”

This wasn’t practical. Andrew shouldn’t fuel this interest that was beginning to unfurl, should slam the door in its face.

 _Not interested_ , is what he should’ve said.

Instead, “me first.”

Nathaniel nodded in agreement, laying his head back against the wall with a sigh, and in doing so, exposing the bruised column of his throat. Andrew caught a glimpse of the mottled purples and blues littering Nathaniel’s skin and knew what his first question would be.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mentions of violence

Nathaniel waited for Andrew to ask his question; the goalkeeper looked at ease, but there was an underlying tension in the room that didn’t bode well for either of them. Things were changing, whether Nathaniel wanted them to or not, and the small bits of security that he’d strung together in the Nest over the years had begun falling out of place since Andrew had arrived.

“You were limping just now,” Andrew finally broke the silence, “you weren’t a few hours ago.”

Ah, that.

“That’s not a question,” he shot back but didn’t blame Andrew for sending him a flat look.

“It was implied.”

Nathaniel shrugged, jarring his aching shoulders. He thought that he’d hidden the limp well but apparently not well enough. Andrew was more attentive than he looked.

“Tetsuji’s the one who found Riko. Someone had to take the blame,” Nathaniel allowed.

For a moment, he could’ve sworn the look on Andrew’s face was surprise. The goalkeeper’s eyes widened only the slightest bit at the implication of what Nathaniel suggested before he leveled him with another blank stare.

When Andrew had walked away with Kevin in tow, there hadn’t been anywhere for Nathaniel to go. He was ignoring Jean, practice wouldn’t be for hours, and Riko was lying unconscious on the floor. Andrew hadn’t exactly been quiet about the outburst either because Tetsuji came striding around the corner almost as soon as the goalkeeper dragged Kevin away and disappeared. The look on the Master’s face had been vehement shock. The cane came out soon after.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Andrew’s voice startled him from his thoughts, and Nathaniel shook his head.

“I didn’t ask you to punch Riko,” he replied airily, “but I don’t think Tetsuji really believed me anyways. I’d probably be dead if he actually thought I’d touched his nephew.”

Hell would freeze over when he fought back against Riko.

Andrew looked impassive, but there was something scrutinizing behind his gaze now. Like he was just as lost as Nathaniel was.

“So why,” he hedged, “you know Riko will make your life a living hell.”

“He knows I don’t care,” Andrew tilted his head. “I didn’t do it for you. If I was to make an exception, you would not be the one warranting it.”

Exception to _what?_

Andrew had already said that it wasn’t for him, and maybe Nathaniel believed it because otherwise, Andrew didn’t add up. The goalkeeper had made it clear that he wouldn’t help without some sort of deal to facilitate between them, and Nathaniel wasn’t going to ask for any hand-outs.

Andrew punching Riko had been nothing short of pointless.

“So you did it to what? Be a good Samaritan?”

Andrew didn’t react to the sarcasm, just continued looking through Nathaniel like he was searching for answers.

Steadily, “I was bored.”

Nathaniel laughed, sharp and surprisingly open. It was a genuine laugh, and he was so caught off guard by his own reaction that he clamped a hand over his mouth to stop the insidious giddy that came from Andrew’s response. Bored.

Andrew had been _bored_.

He had been bored and clocked Riko in the face, effectively knocking him out.

Andrew didn’t take his eyes off of him as he wheezed for breath. Nathaniel gingerly placed a hand over his ribs, probably bruised from the Master. While Riko never held back when he was angry, Tetsuji was controlled and precise; he knew exactly where to leave a mark.

It didn’t help that Nathaniel had smiled through it, his father’s grin peeling back his lips and only further enraging the Master. It was an unstoppable reaction though, being enlightened by the revelation of Riko’s concussion and at the hands of Andrew Minyard no less, who was _bored_.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Nathaniel asked as his laughter trailed off into gasps for air that his ribs restricted.

“It’s not your turn anymore,” Andrew deadpanned and moved to leave.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Nathaniel called after him. Andrew must’ve interpreted that as a plea to wait because he stopped at the doorway, shoulders tense. Once again, Nathaniel’s attention dragged down to black armbands, and ten more questions popped into his head on the spot. “Riko’s got a showcase next week. Assuming he heals, he won’t have time to torment you before he leaves.”

Andrew raised a brow wryly. “I do not fear him like you,” and left.

Nathaniel blinked. He didn’t think that he necessarily feared Riko himself, just what the Moriyamas were capable of, all of the money and people they had unlimited access to. Riko was a spoiled child; his connections, however, made Nathaniel weary. Andrew would learn that the hard way, though.

***

The following week passed shockingly quiet. Nathaniel was astonished to find that without Riko around to antagonize him, he’d been much less paranoid. He’d barely looked over his shoulder at practices, and Kevin’s relentless badgering was almost enough to keep him distracted from thoughts of his father.

Coach Moriyama had briskly announced that Riko would be in the infirmary for the week before he left for a South Carolina showcase, which put Kevin in charge of the Ravens for the next fourteen days. Nathaniel couldn’t decide on who was more insufferable as captain of the team.

“Stop,” Kevin called an end to their current play, all furrowed brows and fraying impatience. The striker plowed through a line of Ravens, pushing his way towards the opposite end of the court without acknowledging their muffled indignation.

Kevin came to a halt a mere foot away from Nathaniel. He didn’t say anything, just crossed his arms in thought.

“What?” Nathaniel prodded, preparing himself for an onslaught of ‘ _try harder_ ’s. Kevin just hushed him, making a cutting gesture in the air before turning to look at goal. Or more likely, Andrew in goal.

Andrew had continued to remain distant at practice, and somehow, without Riko around to spit fire at the Ravens, it seemed like Andrew had grown even less involved, if that were possible. The goalkeeper stared straight ahead, not even a notice of playing coming to a stop.

“It’s not gonna happen,” Nathaniel chided, reading Kevin’s mind. “Not unless there’s something in it for himself.”

Kevin shook his head in irritation. “He needs to want it on his own.”

Nathaniel was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think he wants anything.”

It was as if Andrew heard him across the court, because he turned his head ever-so-slightly towards them, the first sign of even being remotely conscious and present all day. Kevin shook his head once more, staring Andrew down, and the latter made a show of lazily stretching out his arms.

“Alright,” Kevin huffed to himself and grabbed Nathaniel by the front of his jersey.

“What—” he tried to protest, but Kevin just tugged him over to goal without an explanation. Andrew was now openly staring at them, watching their approach with practiced disconnect. By now, they’d garnered the attention of the other Ravens on the court, and all eyes were on Kevin and Nathaniel. As if sensing the sudden focus, Kevin stopped a little ways away from Andrew and turned to the rest of the team.

“Ravens,” he called, “clear this side of the stadium. You’ll be shooting from half-court on empty goal. Four-corner drills with dealers alternating.”

Nathaniel didn’t know what Kevin was trying to prove by clearing Andrew’s side of the court, and he didn’t understand how he came into play in the situation. Kevin just waited, watching the Ravens drain into the other end of the court and begin lining up for drills. Nathaniel turned to follow them, but Kevin snagged his jersey once more, effectively keeping him in place.

“Not you,” Kevin said, “you’re shooting on Minyard.”

Nathaniel was sick of the plotting, just wanted to be left alone.

“I’m a backliner,” he told Kevin and made to leave, but the striker held fast.

“You have his attention,” Kevin kept his voice low so as not to have Andrew overhear, “an idiot could see that.”

‘Attention’ was a strange way to describe Andrew’s motive for occasionally speaking to Nathaniel, and he didn’t think that Kevin really even knew what he was talking about. Nathaniel had studied Andrew. He’d watched the goalkeeper distance himself from the Ravens and noticed how barely anything snagged the man’s interest. Andrew had already said that Nathaniel was no exception to whatever principles he followed.

“He doesn’t care. This is a waste of time.”

Kevin ignored him in favor of striding over to goal, and Nathaniel stayed put.

He couldn’t make out what Kevin was saying to Andrew, but he watched as Andrew lethargically flipped the striker off before pettily crossing his arms. Kevin made an exaggerated gesture with his hands, pointing dramatically back at Nathaniel. It was almost amusing, watching Kevin’s passion meet the brick wall that was Andrew.

After five minutes of Kevin harshly whispering in Andrew’s face, he stormed away just to throw a stray exy ball in Nathaniel’s direction. He caught it as Kevin strode over to the Ravens shooting on the opposite end of the court. Nathaniel might’ve pitied them for having to deal with Kevin’s domineering attitude, had they not all been assholes as long as he’d known them.

He looked at Andrew.

The goalkeeper returned his stare, and to Nathaniel’s surprise, raised his racquet.

He didn’t know whether to take that as an admission to shoot or a motion to fuck off, but Nathaniel lifted his racquet the same and positioned to score.

Andrew mirrored his movements, and a thrill rolled down Nathaniel’s spine: a challenge.

Nathaniel didn’t know what Kevin had said to Andrew, had no clue what he’d done to elicit this sudden effort, but he didn’t care at this point.

If Andrew was going to play, Nathaniel would make sure he played hard.

He shot, short and quick steps angled towards the side of the goal parallel to where Andrew stood, and in a blur of movement almost quicker than Nathaniel could keep track of, Andrew deflected the ball. It flew upwards and over Nathaniel’s head, all the way to half court.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel swore he saw Kevin watching them, but he was sure the striker knew better than to look triumphant.

Andrew rapped the butt of his racquet against the court floor, a demand for Nathaniel’s attention, and Nathaniel readied himself again, shooting with fervency.

He could feel himself smiling after the fifth attempt, each try stopped by Andrew’s determination.

This was what exy was supposed to be about. It was the passion, the drive, the feeling of accomplishment when his opponent was outsmarted; there was no Riko, no scheming, no hierarchy.

It was just the game.

Andrew was good. Andrew was actually the best goalkeeper Nathaniel had ever seen or played against, and for once, he had to agree with Kevin. The potential there was abundant.

He kept shooting, aiming for corners he could’ve sworn Andrew wouldn’t be able to reach, but every time, the goalkeeper’s reflexes were impeccable. Some of the Ravens on the other side of the court had actually stopped to watch, and Nathaniel could feel their eyes searing into Andrew, sizing him up.

If someone was going to take a fifth spot in Riko’s hierarchy, it was evident that Andrew was the clear frontrunner.

By the time Kevin called break, Nathaniel was exhausted. It wasn’t the draining kind, not the kind from sleepless nights spent thinking about the future. This exhausting felt good.

As he lowered his racquet, he found that he was still smiling. This time, though, it didn’t feel like his father’s.

***

“You’re incredible.”

Andrew ignored him, casting a side-eyed glance in his direction before stuffing his things into his locker. Most of the Ravens were still changing out, but Nathaniel didn’t bother to keep his voice down. It felt like there was a buzzing beneath his skin, urging him to go, move, run.

He distantly mused that this might’ve been excitement.

“Why hold yourself back?” Nathaniel questioned, “you could make it big, you know.”

Whatever had possessed Andrew to deign Nathaniel with his effort earlier was gone now, replaced with sheer boredom and remittance from conversation.

Andrew pushed his locker closed and walked away without a word. Nathaniel watched his retreating form, unable to grasp how the goalkeeper could just shut it all out: the talent, the potential, the possibility. Andrew had options and yet he chose to ignore it all.

Nathaniel had never given much thought to the other Ravens before this, Jean excluded. He’d always been so focused on staying alive and out of the hands of his father that everyone else fell away into a blur.

Andrew was different though.

Nathaniel didn’t know why.


	9. Chapter 9

When Riko had walked out of the infirmary that morning, bag packed and ready to leave for South Carolina, Nathaniel had gotten his first taste of repercussion since the beginning of the week. He hadn’t wanted to think about what Riko was planning, how the Raven was indubitably scheming Andrew’s and probably Nathaniel’s demise.

Riko had dark rings sagging beneath his lifeless eyes, and he’d met Nathaniel’s openly stalk-still stare with a callous smirk of his own. Then he’d left, Tetsuji leading the way with an uninterested glance flicked towards Nathaniel’s paralyzed form.

It was enough to set him on edge.

***

“He’s planning something,” Nathaniel insisted.

Andrew had been ignoring him ever since they’d played together a few days ago, back to his steady stream of indifference during practice. He didn’t even turn to acknowledge Nathaniel’s warnings, just continued walking down the barely lit halls of the Nest.

Kevin had called an early end to drills, a rare occurrence that happened once in a lightyear, and sent everyone to clean up in their respective rooms. Today was apparently the most important day of the year for Ravens excluding playing season: press-duty.

Reporters from all around the Northeastern district came to Edgar Allen to ask a multitude of unnecessary or over-stepping questions that ranged from regards to the playing season to probes at personal relationships.

Nathaniel liked to call it “Let’s Bullshit the Cameras into Thinking We’re a Functional Unit Day.”

Only, this year would be different since Riko wasn’t around to smile crookedly at every spectator and Andrew would be expected to speak to the press.

Nathaniel wasn’t allowed to.

“Don’t you think you should prepare for the worst in case Riko pulls something?” he tried, speeding up to match Andrew’s quick pace.

Andrew shot him a cool look.

“It’s been dealt with.”

He couldn’t stop himself from gaping at the remark, didn’t even know where to start. Andrew obviously didn’t grasp the severity of Riko’s antagonism. It was like the man didn’t have a shred of self-preservation.

Nathaniel said as much, bit out at Andrew’s apathetic stare, and the latter finally came to a stop, rocking back on his heels.

“Why so fretful when this has nothing to do with you? Trying to be a good Samaritan?” Andrew mocked, throwing Nathaniel’s words back in his face with a hint of snidery.

He swallowed and tore his eye’s away from Andrew’s half-lidded gaze, finding a spot on the floor to latch on to.

“Is that your question?” Nathaniel asked.

Truthfully, he’d been waiting for Andrew to just hurry up and take his turn in whatever this was, dealing out secrets like bargaining chips. Maybe what he really wanted to know was how Andrew could be so reckless, how he didn’t even bat an eye in the face of Riko or the prospect of the Moriyamas.

Maybe he needed to learn how to stand his ground like that.

Andrew raised an eyebrow as if pained by the idea of taking his turn now, but he gave a slight nod after a moment of consideration. 

“I don’t understand you,” Nathaniel answered simply. “I guess I’m just not used to seeing people fight back against Riko.”

Andrew watched him as if searching for a lie, hazel eyes scouring the lines of Nathaniel’s calm expression. When he found what he was looking for, he turned to his room, gave a shrug, and slammed the door in Nathaniel’s face.

***

Nathaniel watched Jean finish buttoning up the collar to what was undoubtedly an expensively refined shirt. Riko had ordered the Ravens custom clothing weeks ago just to appear presentable for the press, Nathaniel excluded. He sat clad in an over-sized hoodie and running shorts; no one would be seeking him out for questions because no one knew he existed.

“Are you done with your petulant sulking yet?” Jean shot at him once he noticed Nathaniel’s attention.

He scowled at the backliner in front of him and didn’t bother replying; that was answer enough, and Jean sighed at his lack of response.

Nathaniel didn’t have any interest in speaking to his partner. He didn’t know if that would change any time soon and he didn’t care. After seeing someone else stand up to Riko, it was difficult to look past the rest of the Raven’s cowardice. He knew he was being unsympathetic. He understood why Jean wouldn’t risk helping him.

But Andrew had punched Riko without a second thought and that’d changed Nathaniel’s perspective on a lot of things, Jean included.

“You are being childish,” Jean stated.

Nathaniel flicked him off as he made to leave the room, but Jean stopped him with an arm in front of the doorway.

“Everyone knows how Riko ended up in that infirmary,” the backliner hissed, “I’ve had enough of your pouting. You need to worry about your own recklessness.”

Nathaniel didn’t bother correcting him that it was actually Andrew who’d attacked Riko. It wouldn’t make a difference. He’d already been trying to dismantle why Riko hadn’t come forth and told Tetsuji the truth himself.

“You’re lecturing me, now?” he snapped back. “Do you take pride in being Riko’s mini-me?”

Jean’s eyes widened at the jest. He moved forward in the blink of an eye, to do what, Nathaniel didn’t know. The door to their room swung open before anything could happen, and Kevin stood with Andrew a little ways behind him. Impatience pulled at the lines on the striker’s face.

“We needed to be on court five minutes ago,” Kevin frowned, “let’s go.”

Andrew looked just as bored as ever, but he studied Jean and Nathaniel with a fixated intent. Jean glowered but shoved past and out the doorway with his hands balled into fists. Nathaniel felt the urge to kick the backliner’s teeth in.

He moved to follow Jean, slipping past Kevin deftly, but a hand snagged his hood taut.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kevin challenged, and Nathaniel turned expecting to find the striker constraining him. Instead, Andrew held on to his sweatshirt with his eyes drilling holes into the ceiling like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Kevin raised his eyebrows imploringly from Andrew’s side.

“I want to watch.”

The striker chortled in disbelief and shook his head.

“No.”

“Yes,” Nathaniel urged and tried to tug himself from Andrew’s tightening grip.

“Just because Riko isn’t here doesn’t mean you get to break the rules. If they see you—”

“Then I’ll run,” Nathaniel cut him off.

He’d never gotten to see press-day for himself. Riko usually locked him in his room and wouldn’t let him leave. Eventually the Raven’s captain would come back after hours had passed and let him out, but it really just depended on whether the interviews went well or not. Once, Riko had foregone unlocking the door and made Nathaniel sit inside for forty-eight hours of doing absolutely nothing.

“No,” Kevin repeated firmly, “you’re staying here.”

The striker looked to Andrew.

“Be on court in an hour,” he told him, “I’ll take him from there.”

Nathaniel stared in disbelief as Kevin jogged to catch up with Jean before his words actually began to make sense.

_I’ll take him from there._

“What’re you, his lap dog now?” he seethed, but Andrew just pushed him back into his room. The door shut behind them, and Nathaniel heard the snick of it closing loud and clear.

Sealed in once again.

“Is that your question?” Andrew twisted Nathaniel’s words for the second time that day and leaned against the wall. He wore the same polished clothes as Jean, and Nathaniel distantly wondered how much Kevin had to bribe in order to get him to wear it.

A lot, Nathaniel guessed, when he caught Andrew fishing for something out of his back pocket. He still wasn’t prepared to see the item in the latter’s hand when he shook it out in front of him though.

_A pack of cigarettes._

His eyes must’ve bulged out of his head as Andrew pulled the pack from his pocket and rifled through it, sliding two out. He waved one in the air, a silent offering, and Nathaniel hesitantly reached for it. He monitored Andrew’s void expression closely as he plucked the cigarette from his fingers. Andrew held his stare.

“How?” Nathaniel breathed, and he couldn’t completely keep the wonder out of his voice.

Ravens were forbidden from smoking. It deviated from their health regime that Coach Moriyama had written up and imposed with a forceful hand; Nathaniel hadn’t seen a cigarette in years.

Andrew swiped a lighter from his other pocket and flicked it open.

Watching the flame, he replied evenly, “Kevin owes me.”

“For?”

“Babysitting you today.”

Just like that, his amusement was snuffed out. Nathaniel bit his lip to keep from screaming, but he didn’t quite manage to stifle the frustration. He was fed up with being controlled. Riko wasn’t even here and he was being forced to stay in his room like a toddler.

The sudden temptation to shove past Andrew and bolt for the court was prominent and consuming.

As quick as his thoughts had come, Andrew brought the lighter closer to Nathaniel, the click of it pulling a full-body flinch from him and shaking away his thoughts of rebellion.

Nathaniel brought his hands up between them, unsure of what to do and a second away from panicking; Andrew stepped back at the reaction but tore Nathaniel’s cigarette from his fingers while doing so. He lit it, and only then did Nathaniel realize the man’s intentions.

“Oh,” he let out weakly, and took back the cigarette.

Andrew just watched.

He inhaled the scent after a quick drag, waves of nostalgia hitting him full-force, and relaxed. He could almost feel his mother by his side, smoke clinging to the both of them. Nathaniel closed his eyes, let the memories wash over him and take form of a reminder. Mary Wesninski’s last words had echoed right before she herself had gone up in smoke.

 _Survive_.

Andrew’s voice ripped him away from his thoughts.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

The words didn’t make sense at first, simply a jumbled phrase that could’ve meant a plethora of different things. Nathaniel looked up at the blonde from where he’d plopped down on to his bed.

“You’re keeping me in here,” he answered, but Andrew just rolled his eyes.

“Why are you _here_?” he emphasized and then it clicked.

Nathaniel had almost forgotten that Andrew didn’t know his story.

Word travelled through the Nest in social circuits when Riko permitted conversing; that included Nathan Wesninski’s deal with the Moriyamas and Nathaniel’s place in the hierarchy. All of the Ravens knew what was instore for him.

All of them except Andrew, it seemed.

“I figured Kevin would’ve told you by now, what with all the ‘babysitting’ propositions,” he stalled, but Andrew just waited, blowing smoke into the air.

It was strange, having to say it himself. He’d never needed to before. Most Ravens settled for whispering about it where they figured he couldn’t hear them. _The Butcher’s Boy_.

He swallowed the dry lump in his throat and took a deep breath.

“My father works for the Moriyamas. He sent me here because I didn’t want to,” Nathaniel thought for a moment, deciding how to word this, “I didn’t want to take over the family business.”

Andrew raised his chin. “Which is?”

“Murder,” Nathaniel’s voice cracked and he looked away from the goalkeeper’s scrutiny. Andrew didn’t seem surprised though. He didn’t look sick. He didn’t back away from the ugly confession.

For a minute, neither of them said anything else.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but Nathaniel didn’t know what to make of Andrew’s lack of reaction. Most were appalled by his lineage; it was a topic that Jean had stiltedly attempted to address once. He hadn’t tried again after Nathaniel had offhandedly mentioned the dead animals his father used to make him practice on with a knife.

Andrew didn’t seem phased, though.

“A travesty,” the goalkeeper deadpanned, and Nathaniel bared his teeth in a grin that felt too familiar. He shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette.

“Not quite,” he shifted, inspecting the clumped ash that drifted from his fingers, “I get to be Edgar Allen’s ‘special secret.’”

There was no humor in his voice when he said it, but he tried to keep the smile pasted on, lopsided and probably hopeless. He was the Raven’s secret for now but that anonymity wouldn’t last for long.

“You can’t leave,” Andrew remarked.

Nathaniel knew that he wasn’t referring to the room in which they sat.

He nodded. “You can’t either.”

Andrew tilted his head but didn’t deny the accusation.

Nathaniel wanted to ask what was keeping the goalkeeper under Edgar Allen’s thumb. He wanted to know what Riko was holding over Andrew’s head to get him here, to force the man into playing a sport that he could care less about for a team that derived their life from it.

He held his tongue, opting for closing his eyes and leaning back with the comfort of smoke to indulge in.

“Guess we’re both fucked then,” he was compelled to whisper.

Andrew didn’t deny that either.

***

Kevin came and Andrew left. The striker had burst into the room with an exaggerated wave of his hands for Andrew to “ _go, now, they’re waiting for you, go, go, go,_ ” and Nathaniel had watched on from his seat, slightly entertained.

Andrew had gotten up from the floor as begrudgingly slow as possible, brushed off the suit he wore, and walked out of the room even slower.

Kevin, of course, had been infuriated.

Now he fidgeted with his collar, pacing back and forth with so much restless energy radiating off of him that Nathaniel could practically hear his thoughts.

“Maybe try calming down a bit?” he’d suggested sarcastically, but Kevin just snarled something unintelligible before resuming his anxious antics.

Nathaniel didn’t really blame him. The responsibility of the Ravens had been left on Kevin’s shoulders with Riko’s absence and the pressure was undoubtedly getting to him. Nathaniel felt the need to ask how the interviews were going so far, but he didn’t really care about the answer. Sometimes, watching Kevin fume was like his own personal stress-relief.

“There’s no way,” Kevin mumbled to himself, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair, dissembling the carefully gelled-back strands.

“That bad, huh?” Nathaniel asked in a tone that couldn’t have sounded more disinterested. The practiced nonchalance hit its mark when Kevin sent him a blistering glare.

“Not the interviews, you idiot,” he growled. “I just found out who my father is.”


End file.
